


Returning like waves (to the shores of time)

by StrangeNoise



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: (past) Loss of family, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Death, Developing Relationship, Execution, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, First Meetings, Frottage, Grief, Holocaust references, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Injury Recovery, Kissing, M/M, Marriage, Medieval Europe, Medieval Medicine, More tags and trigger warnings will be added as the story is updated, Murder, Nazism, Priests, Racism, References to antisemitism, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Revolution, Temporary Character Death, War, dark themes, fighting to the death, references to slavery, unsafe medical practices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:56:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 50,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21632554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrangeNoise/pseuds/StrangeNoise
Summary: Two halves of a whole, two men destined to meet again and again over the course of several thousand years, searching and finding one another only to get lost and starting the circle againHankcon Reincarnation/Soulmate AU
Relationships: Connor/RT600 "Chloe" Android(s) (Detroit: Become Human), Hank Anderson/Connor, Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed
Comments: 18
Kudos: 94





	1. In the shadow of the gods - part 1

**Author's Note:**

> **TW/CW:** Religious imagery and symbolism, race changes. I wanted to make it clear that in the first two chapters Hank and Connor aren't white because with the setting it just didn't make sense for them to be. I mostly forwent mentions of skin color because it had no bearing on what is happening in chapter one and two. Unfortunately I got this chapter finished too late to ask a sensitivity writer to review it before posting it so if there is anything in there that might be offensive or is uncomfortable for you **please tell me** and I will do my best to fix it.
> 
> Other than that: Enjoy!

Hank eyed the young man warily. The brunet was far younger than anyone Hank had ever had to train and even more surprisingly: He had been chosen by the pharaoh himself. Everyone else in the temple, including Hank, had either inherited their position or worked tirelessly to get there. Suddenly being presented with some young man, who was somehow in the pharaoh’s favor and could simply show up and receive what others had worked their whole life for went against everything Hank stood for. But he was in no position and also not insane enough to question the pharaoh’s decision and so he was stuck with the young brunet.  
  
“What is your name?”, Hank asked, raising a brow and crossing his arms in front of his chest.  
  
“Connor”, the young man replied quickly, as if he feared punishment for answering a question too slowly.   
  
“Well then, Connor, have you had any education before this?”, Hank wanted to know next. He was pretty sure that someone like Connor could not possibly have any education at all. Hardly anyone, who didn’t attend the schools of the priests and temple guards did. And Hank had been close to both long enough to know he had never seen Connor there. However, he had heard of cases like this before. Some poor peasant boy, who crossed the pharaoh’s way by some stroke of faith and impressed the mightiest man in all of Egypt so much that the pharaoh allowed him to reach highest honors among his priests or soldiers. Connor, surely, was no different.   
  
“I know how to read, write and calculate”, Connor answered as quickly as he had before. There was something in his gaze that went beyond understandable nervousness and Hank wondered what that could be. But he wondered even more how someone like Connor would have learned to read and write. Not many men in Thebes, let alone the rest of the realm knew how to do both. And to think that a simple young man like Connor somehow did. Hank felt like he would have to reevaluate his thoughts on the brunet. But that could wait until later.  
  
“Very well”, Hank said curtly, “Let me show you around, then.”   
  
For the rest of the day, Hank guided Connor through the temple complex, explained the various buildings and his duties to the young man. Connor followed him like a puppy, nodding along to everything Hank said and looking so intensely concentrated on not forgetting a single word that Hank was tempted to laugh more than once. By the time he showed Connor the room he would sleep in with several other scribe students and contenders for priest offices, the young man looked about ready to pass out. Hank was pretty sure that was exactly what Connor did after parting ways for the night.   
  
  
Over the following weeks, Hank realized he had to correct his initial impression of Connor completely. The brunet was equally as hard-working if not more so as the other students around him and did his best to obey every order he was given as quickly and perfectly as he possibly could. Where Hank had first assumed he would have to explain to Connor every other task, the brunet already knew many things and was quick to learn whatever it was he didn’t know.  
  
Sooner rather than later, he became Hank’s favorite subordinate and student. They spent ever more time together during the times they had to work together at the temple and during all other hours of the day too. As one of the priests of a higher rank, Hank had his own room to himself and one night he invited Connor there to talk. As it had turned out, Connor was, among many other things, a great conversation partner too.  
  
“Now, I’ve been wondering for weeks, how does someone like you get the chance to meet the pharaoh and impress him enough to immediately be sent to learn how to become a priest?”, Hank asked and Connor’s cheeks were suddenly tinted by a dark blush.   
  
“My mother came from a very lowly background but she always wanted to see our family amount to something bigger and better”, Connor explained, looking down at his hands rather than into Hank’s eyes, “She is very smart and beautiful. After my father died, she managed to catch the eye of some high-born noble and got him to marry her. She always made sure that my brother and I received the best education possible so we could live our best life. A while back she finally managed to get us close to the pharaoh and he took a liking to me and now I am here.”  
  
“That sounds like your mother has really been looking out for you and your brother”, Hank commented, nodding his head in approval, “You owe her a lot.”   
  
“I do”, Connor replied but didn’t look too happy, “And still…I do not wish to sound ungrateful but she never once asked me if I want any of this. Maybe I would have wanted a different life…”  
  
“Do you now?”, Hank asked, raising a brow. Sure, serving as a priest to one of the gods was one of the most divine and looked up to professions anyone could possibly have. But it also meant a lot of discipline, austerity and a life full of hard work. And while Hank loved his status, he understood if someone wanted something different for themselves instead.  
  
“I used to”, Connor admitted and Hank knew instinctively that it was the first time the young man ever admitted his feelings to anyone, “When I was first sent here I thought about running away. But then I met you and now I want to stay.”   
  
The blush on Connor’s cheeks darkened, his skin almost glowing with it. And Hank could feel himself going a little red in the face too.   
  
“What do you mean?”, he asked Connor, cringing at how hoarse his voice sounded suddenly.  
  
“It is going to sound very silly”, Connor warned him, “But do you know the story about the two lovers, whose love was so strong that it rivaled that of the gods for each other?”  
  
Hank nodded. Everyone knew the story. A pair of lovers found each other and fell so deeply in love that it angered the gods because the mortals’ love was stronger than the one they shared with each other. So they separated the lovers and made it so that they would meet again and again through the centuries but were always separated by death again until one day, far in the future, they could finally be together for good and would enter the afterlife together as well.  
  
“When I first saw you, I felt like something inside me suddenly fall into place, like I had found something that had always been missing from me”, Connor explained, still not looking up at Hank, “And I was reminded of that myth and I thought, maybe…”  
  
Hank was tempted to laugh for a second but from one moment to the next that feeling vanished. He hadn’t talked about it to anyone, barely even admitted it to himself but he had felt something similar to what Connor just described. It hadn’t happened instantly when he first met the brunet. Hank had been far too caught up in his annoyance and prejudices at the time. But that night, when he had laid down, his thoughts had strayed to Connor again and he had felt that certain feeling too. Like something missing from his life had slipped into place. Hank had noticed that ever since they met he had been happier than he had been in a long time, possibly ever. He hadn’t paid much attention to it until now, thinking that it was merely him enjoying having a capable apprentice for once, who was also good company.  
  
But now that Connor had planted the idea in his head, Hank couldn’t stop thinking about it. What if the brunet was right? What if they were fabled lovers, destined to meet again and again? Maybe they had already met before but neither of them could remember. Maybe this was only the first of many lives destiny had in store for them, making them meet again and again as the world changed around them until, finally, the cycle ended and they would finally be at peace together.  
  
“I should go”, Connor said and stood up abruptly. Caught up in thought as he had been, Hank hadn’t noticed he might have been silent for a bit too long to be comfortable for someone, who had just suggested that maybe they had been lovers in a past life and could be lovers again in a future one too. Connor was already halfway past Hank when the older man grabbed him by the wrist and stopped him from going further.  
  
“Stay”, he said softly and after a moment Connor stopped struggling.   
  
“If I have offended you I am sorry”, he muttered and Hank could see tears forming in his eyes, “I just thought that maybe you felt the same and-“  
  
  
“I do”, Hank told Connor, interrupting the young man before he could say something that would end up hurting them both, “I might not have realized it before but I feel exactly the same way as you do. I haven’t been as content as I’ve been since I met you in ages.”  
  
“Do you mean it?”, Connor asked, voice barely above a whisper and yet so hopeful that Hank was sure his heart was going to burst right out of his chest from affection, “I would not want you to lie to me just to make me feel better.”

“I meant every word I said”, Hank assured him, letting go of Connor’s wrist and taking his hand in his instead, “I might be a little rusty at feelings and especially at expressing them but…when you said what you said, I knew I felt exactly the same way. I just needed you to put my feelings into words for me to understand them.”   
  
Connor finally looked Hank in the eyes again. There was something searching in his gaze as if he was trying to find out if Hank was lying or only saying what he did to please Connor. When he found nothing like that, he smiled and slowly let himself sink into Hank’s lap. Slowly, as if to leave Hank an out, he wrapped his arms around Hank’s neck, then buried his face in his shoulder. Connor inhaled deeply, then exhaled a warm breath against Hank’s skin and it made the older man shudder.   
  
“We cannot be together like this in public, can we?”, Connor asked, a sigh in his voice. The fingers of one of his hands began teasing the grey curls at the back of Hank’s neck.   
  
“I am afraid that is not possible”, Hank agreed with a sigh of his own. There were no laws, human or created by the gods, that prohibited two men from being together but still, men who were this way inclined were frowned and looked down upon and even if he personally didn’t care, Hank didn’t want that for Connor. The young man deserved a happy life without other people judging him constantly.  
  
“We will be fine without it though”, the brunet finally said, wrapping his arms more tightly around Hank and pressing a soft kiss against his cheek, “As long as I can have you in here, I can live with not having you out in the world.”   
  
Hank finally wrapped his arms around Connor too, holding him close and enjoying his warmth against his own body.   
  
“You are right”, he agreed, “If we can have this somewhere private, who cares if we can be together out in the world?”   
  
Connor nodded, his curly brown hair tickling Hank’s temple and Hank had never been happier.  
  
They stayed like this for a while longer, talking softly about how very deeply they felt for each other and how they would never let go of the other again. That night, Connor slept in Hank’s bed with him, snuggled up against Hank’s broader frame and the older man was sure he had never been this content in all his life.


	2. In the shadow of the gods - part 2

Hank felt a strong sense of déja vu when he found himself in the temple again one day, Connor in front of him and nervous as can be.  
  
This time, however, Hank didn’t feel like a burden had just been handed to him that he had no need and no wish to take on. Instead, he was filled with nothing but pride as he looked at the young man, who was currently getting dressed and getting his face painted. The bright reds and blues contrasted beautifully with Connor’s dark skin and gave it an otherworldly glow. The brunet almost looked like a deity himself, Hank thought to himself as he smiled at the young man.  
  
Time and again, the older man told himself that today was not a day to smile. A member of the imperial family had died and a large funeral procession was to be held all through Thebes. Hank and Connor, among other priests, had been chosen to accompany the body to its final resting place and had had the immense honor of carrying some of the gifts that would be given to the dead for their existence in the afterlife. Connor was by far the youngest of the priests to be trusted with something so important but he deserved it more than anyone else.  
  
Hank had already been dressed and painted and was now watching his partner have the same done to him. The younger man looked almost regal himself and Hank thought, not for the first time, how lucky he was that someone as beautiful and all-around perfect as Connor wanted to be with someone like him. Not that Hank didn’t know his worth but he was far past his prime and he knew that it showed. He wasn’t as fit as he used to be and his hair was more grey than anything else these days. But for some unfathomable reason, Connor didn’t seem to mind and that made Hank love him even more.   
  
Deep in thought, Hank didn’t realize that work on Connor’s robes and make-up was finally done and the young man immediately walked over to him.   
  
“What are you thinking about?”, he asked as he stopped right in front of Hank, startling the older man.  
  
“Only about how lucky I am to have you”, Hank answered truthfully, keeping his voice low so only he and Connor could hear what was being said. Connor beamed up at him, a blush spreading on his cheeks and making his skin glow even more. After a quick look around, the brunet took Hank’s hand and squeezed it quickly before letting go of it again, hoping that no one around them had seen.  
  
If he was honest with himself, Hank had to admit that keeping their relationship a secret was far harder than they had first anticipated. They had established a comfortable intimacy whenever it was just them. There were lots of easy touches like kisses and holding hands that they grew accustomed to but couldn’t engage in in public and sometimes, Hank had to admit, it was painful. There were just too many moments, where Hank felt the intense need to hold Connor’s hand or kiss him but he never went through with it. He could only hope that they were, in fact, that couple of lovers that was reborn every few centuries and that one day they could be together openly.  
  
For now, there was no more time to ponder on such things, though. The last of the priests had been dressed and painted and were handed their cult or funerary objects. The procession was set to start any minute now.  
  
“I should go and get ready”, Connor said wistfully but with a soft smile on his face, “I will see you after the procession.”  
  
That being said, he threw Hank one last glance and made his way to a group of priests already waiting for him. Connor had been chosen to be part of a section at the front of the procession while Hank and many other priests were to walk towards the end of it. And while that meant that Hank and Connor wouldn’t see each other for quite some time, Hank couldn’t have been prouder of his partner. In the past year, Connor had worked tirelessly and done his best to be a good servant to their gods. It had the added effect of not only making Hank proud but also impressing many men around him, who reported back to the pharaoh about Connor’s progress.  
  
A little more than a week ago Hank had finally met Connor’s mother, who had come to congratulate him on his success. Amanda was a strict woman with a stern expression on her face at all times. But beneath that, Hank could see that she loved Connor a lot and was at least as proud of her son’s accomplishments as Hank was. He was not sure whether he liked her or not but at least he knew now that no matter how ambitious she was, she really only did what she did in the interest of her son and that meant a lot to Hank.  
  
Finally, however, Hank was dragged out of his thoughts once more because the procession started. They left the temple and marched to the next and then another one, picking up more and more priests as they went. By the time they reached the imperial palace, Hank could see neither the beginning nor the end of the procession. To the sides of it, it seemed like all of Thebes had gathered in the streets to mourn the pharaoh’s deceased relative. Hank wasn’t sure if he had ever seen this many people in one place before.  
  
Everything that happened after the arrival at the palace strictly followed the protocol. The pharaoh spoke to the people and so did the high priest of the temple of Amun. Then, the pharaoh joined the head of the procession and they marched towards the impressive tomb the pharaoh had ordered to be built for the deceased. It was a colossal building, surely worth a fortune, as were the items the priests now carried inside of it to assure the pharaoh’s relative had enough riches for his life after death.  
  
The entire affair went on for several hours. Hank hoped that maybe he could at least catch a glimpse of Connor as they all carried the funerary objects into the burial chamber. But he had no such luck and eventually rejoined the group of men he had come to the tomb without ever seeing Connor.  
  
Hank quickly became weary after he had done his part in the funeral proceedings. He knew that an imperial funeral could take up to an entire day – it wasn’t the first one he attended in his life. But right now, he would rather be with Connor again than see more and more priests place all kinds of objects in the sepulcher, then return to their spot and make room for even more priests. In the end, Hank had no idea for how long the proceedings went on but he was sure it had to be several hours at least.   
  
The sun was already beginning to set again by the time the last objects were placed and the tomb was sealed. The pharaoh and the high priest spoke to the people once more and then, finally, the procession began to turn and make its way back to where it had originated from. Hank knew it would take much longer than he would like until they were finally back at the temple but the thought of being able to hold Connor in his arms again after he hadn’t been able to for the entire day made it all easier to bear.  


But until Hank could finally take Connor into his arms again, it took until long past midnight. Hank wasn’t even sure what they did in the time between sundown and midnight but he fell into bed exhausted beyond belief that night, Connor curled up against his side, fighting to keep his eyes open.  
  
“I hope all the pharaoh’s remaining relatives live for a long time”, the young man muttered against Hank’s side and yawned. Hank couldn’t help but laugh at that but had to admit that he agreed with Connor. This day had been more exhausting than anything he’d done in the past year and he didn’t need a repetition of it any time soon.  
  
“I am sure the gods will not make us suffer like this again too soon”, Hank said softly, running his fingers through Connor’s hair, “I could not bear being separated from you again for so long.”  
  
“It was barely a day”, Connor replied, chuckling softly, then yawning again. 

“Still far too much time spent without you close to me”, Hank said, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Connor’s head. He felt the brunet relax even further against his side and soon Connor was asleep.  
  
Hank was dead tired himself but he couldn’t fall asleep just yet. He looked down at Connor’s form, illuminated only by the moonlight pouring into the room through a window. Once again Hank wondered what the future held for them. Would they live their lives together until they died and that was going to be it? Or were they truly the couple from the myths that would be reborn again and again? And if they were, what would happen?   
  
It was not the first time that Hank thought about such a possibility. And as usual, he wasn’t sure if it was as beautiful a prospect as it sounded at first. Sure, he would get to be with Connor again and again. But who said that it would be as happy as this time around? Many things could happen and maybe they would be completely different people in their lives to come. No one knew, least of all Hank and Connor themselves. And sometimes the idea of them meeting time and again only to be torn apart by cruel fate terrified Hank to no end.  
  
But then, Connor sighed in his sleep next to him, curling in on himself and burrowing closer into Hank’s side and Hank just knew that no matter what was to come, he would see it through and endure it gladly if only it meant he got to continue seeing Connor until the end of time. The future might be scary but Hank was sure that with Connor by his side, it would not become as bad as he might fear right now.   
  
Contentedly, he wrapped one arm around Connor and held onto him like his most prized possession. Because that was what Connor was. The most beautiful, wonderful person that had ever wanted to be Hank’s and Hank would hold onto that for as long as Connor let him.  
  
Holding onto that thought, Hank fell asleep with a smile on his face, wondering what the future might bring for them but sure that as long as Connor was there, it would be beautiful. 


	3. A fight for happiness - part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **TW/CW:** Murder/fighting to the death, mentions of sexual content

Connor watched from the ranks as the next two fighters entered the arena. Behind him, two older senators bickered about which one would win this fight while to his right two younger men were already betting money on one of them. 

The young brunet rolled his eyes at his peers' behavior but found himself agreeing with the man, who bet on the older of the two candidates. Sure, age could be quite the hindrance in the arena but for someone to survive for so long in such an environment, they had to be a skilled fighter. Connor couldn't really see the man's features or signs of previous injuries from his spot in the ranks. Still, despite being unable to make out many details, Connor strangely felt like he had met the man before. He shrugged it off, figuring he must have seen the man in a previous fight since it was far from the first time that Connor was in the arena. Whatever it was, Connor was certain the man would be able to defeat his opponent. 

The fight began and Connor watched, suddenly far more interested in the proceedings than before. All previous battles had been painfully predictable affairs but this one proved to be different. It seemed Connor had underestimated the smaller man, who valiantly kept the older fighter and his sword at a distance with his spear. Connor couldn't tell what fascinated him so about the man with the grey hair and bulging mountains of muscle. He told himself it was the prospect of a good fight but deep down he knew there was something more to it, something that he couldn't quite place. That feeling had to somehow be linked 

All in all, it ended up being a good fight. The best Connor had seen in a while, actually. And as he had assumed, the older fighter had won. His movements might have been slower than those of his opponent but he had more than made up for it with tactical genius and strength. Now he loomed over the corpse of the second fighter, looking less than thrilled from what Connor could make out as he watched the younger man’s blood seep into the sand below. Then, he turned around and returned to the catacombs of the arena without sparing the cheering audience even a glance.

Connor stayed where he was, watching one or two more fights until someone appeared by his side.

“The emperor wishes to see you”, a servant said and Connor rose with a sigh. There was no saying ‘no’ to the emperor. Not for anyone in Rome and even less for Connor. 

Connor’s mother, Amanda, had been emperor Elijah’s mentor when he was still young and he had thanked her by making her one of his most influential advisors. With his rise to power, Connor, his brother Niles and Amanda had suddenly gone from relatively unknown roman citizens with connections to the palace to one of the most prestigious families in the entire capital. And sure, it had its perks, but most of the time Connor wanted to return to their old life, where he could just be himself and did not have to watch his every step when he was walking out in the streets.

Trying not to think of his misery and become ungrateful, Connor followed the servant and was more than surprised, when the man led him into the catacombs. It was hot and humid in there and a less than pleasant smell surrounded them. It was not a place for anyone, who wasn’t a gladiator or servant and Connor was growing suspicious. What on earth could the emperor want from him that he needed to call Connor here?

“Connor!”, Elijah called out as soon as they came into his sights a moment later, “I am so glad you are here. I just had to show you the most recent addition to my troop of fighters!” Elijah grabbed Connor by the arm and dragged him down a corridor, barely lit with torches mounted on the stonewalls. The servant stayed behind. Connor barely dared to look around and gaze at the men, who were kept locked up down here until it was time for them to go out into the arena and fight. He assumed not many of them were pleasant company and Connor doubted he would be either if he was being treated like the men in here. 

They arrived in a small alcove, where two guards were already waiting for them. Between them stood the older of the two fighters Connor had just seen in the arena. At the sight of him, Connor felt his heart stop in his chest for a moment. He was sure he had met the man before, in a different life, hundreds of years ago in a foreign country. The faint memory of blazing suns and temples for gods with the heads of animals surfaced somewhere in Connor’s mind and it made him dizzy. 

“Meet Hank”, Elijah said, gesturing towards the man in front of them, “He led a horde of barbarians against our armies during our last campaign in Britannica. One of the captains realized what a brilliant fighter he was and brought him back to Rome as a gift for me.” 

Connor tried to smile as politely as he could at the proud grin the emperor presented to him while the brunet tried not to faint from the onslaught of memories that suddenly forced themselves to the forefront of his mind. He still didn’t remember anything specific but he knew that he and Hank had met before and that they had been in love. The knowledge was enough to make Connor shiver. When he dared look up at the man in front of him, he found a conflicted expression on Hank’s face that he was sure was mirrored on his own face. 

It wasn’t helped by the fact that Hank towered over him, a massive body containing an immense strength. He was covered in sweat, his skin glistening in the light of the torches around them and the sight kindled a fire in Connor’s belly that he had never felt as intensely before. Connor could feel himself blushing and quickly averted his gaze to smile at the emperor instead.

“I saw him fight”, he told Elijah, “He truly is an excellent gladiator. More than worthy of fighting for your Highness.”

Elijah laughed and placed a hand on Connor’s shoulder. The emperor had always initiated physical contact far more often than Connor was comfortable with but it wasn’t like he could tell him off. The brunet instinctively looked away from him and back to Hank. He might have been imagining things but he told himself that he saw the smallest hint of jealousy cross the man’s face and for some reason that made Connor happy. It also made the emperor’s touch more bearable. 

“I knew you would agree with me”, Elijah said, pulling Connor a little closer as they turned around in tandem and Elijah began to lead them back out of the catacombs without another word to Hank, “You’re such a sharp young man. Your mother raised you well.” 

Elijah kept showering Connor in praise and talking to him about Amanda’s genius but Connor was barely listening. His mind lingered with Hank and how familiar the man had been. All his life Connor had always felt like something was missing from him but could never say what it was. Now he knew and he couldn’t stop thinking about Hank. But it was not like he could have him. Even if he were more than a fighter in the arena, relationships between men were punishable by death and they could never be together either way. Connor would just have to forget about him again, no matter how much it hurt.

Throughout the following days and weeks, however, it soon turned out that forgetting about Hank was not an option. The man had engraved himself into Connor’s thoughts in every waking hour and even in the young man’s dreams. Being away from him was almost physically painful to the young man and the longer those feelings lasted, the more Connor knew he just had to see the man again. 

He knew what he was doing was pure madness but Connor couldn’t stop himself. The young man hurried through the dark streets of Rome, past houses and inns and barracks full of soldiers until he arrived at the arena. If his mother knew what he was about to do, she would probably lock him up in the house forever but Connor could not care less. He had to see Hank again, consequences be damned. 

Over the past weeks, he had concocted a plan. He would visit him in the dark of night, bribe the guards that were stationed at the fighters’ barracks at night and talk to Hank. Connor’s heart beat faster at the idea. Whether it was the worry of getting caught or the excitement of getting to see Hank again, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that it carried him through the darkness, past the guards and directly into the room Hank was being kept away in. Even Connor knew it was unusual for someone like Hank to have a room for himself, small and dirty as it may be, but he supposed that was a perk of being the emperor’s favorite.

The moment he was alone with Hank, Connor realized he had no idea what he even wanted to say to the man. If he was being honest, he wasn’t even sure he had expected to get this far. Maybe he had always thought, somewhere deep down, that his mother would find out about his plan and stop him. But here he was now, standing not five steps away from Hank in a small room that was barely more than the size of a closet and couldn’t take his eyes off the man in front of him. 

“What do you want?”, Hank growled and his voice sent shivers down Connor’s spine. He wondered briefly if Hank had already had that effect on him in their previous life but there was no way that couldn’t have been the case. Hank’s voice was deep and rough and carried a promise of darker things to come.

“I had to see you again”, Connor answered, voice soft and hollow, as if the bubble they were in, where only the two of them existed, would burst if he spoke any louder. 

“Do you remember me?”, he asked, a second later and suddenly Hank’s features softened.

“How could I ever forget you?”, the man replied. Then he took two steps forward and pulled Connor into his arms, moving them both around until their lips met in a bruising kiss. Connor had never been kissed like this before and a whine escaped his throat. 

Most of what happened afterward was kind of a blur to Connor. He was quite sure that Hank had completely kissed all sense out of him and when the man sank to his knees to take Connor’s throbbing length into his mouth, the brunet was well and truly gone. Connor was so utterly engulfed in bliss that he barely managed to bring Hank release with his hand. But the older man didn’t seem to mind. On his way back home, Connor was giddy with excitement and happiness and vowed to himself that he would come back to meet Hank as often as he could, whatever the consequences might be. There was no way he could stay away from the man for too long. He had missed him far too much.

The next few times Connor returned to Hank weren’t much different from the first. They would exchange a few words and then give in to pleasure until they were both sated and Connor sadly had to return home. Only after they had managed to reign in their desires a little did their meetups go from physical intimacy to long talks about what they had done before they met the other and how much they had missed one another. Hank learned about Connor’s status in Rome and Connor learned about the family Hank had had back in Britannica, a wife, and son that had been killed by Roman soldiers. Sometimes, Connor had to remind himself that he had only met Hank a few weeks ago – in this life at least – because it soon felt like the older man had always been part of it. 

It was an incredible feeling to have someone to love and to be loved in return. Sure, there were risks involved. One of the guards could always decide that they were done accepting bribes from Connor and would rather take their chances at being offered even more money from Amanda in exchange for information on her deviant son. There was also the possibility of Hank dying in a fight but every time he thought of that, Connor told himself that there was just no way anyone could beat Hank. 

Therefore, the only risk that remained was that of being found out. But Connor was as careful as he possibly could with what they did and no matter how much the consequences scared him, he just could not stay away from Hank for too long. Finally, for once in his life, he was well and truly happy and he was going to cling to it for as long as he possibly could.


	4. A fight for happiness - part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Announcement:** I have removed the "major character death" warning from this fic because I felt like it was keeping away potential readers and since due to reincarnation the main characters are always coming back it didn't seem 100% fitting either. Chapters with deaths and other triggers in them will still have warnings at the beginning so I hope we can all work with that. And now: Enjoy!

Somewhere deep down, Connor had always known that things would end badly for him and Hank. What they were doing was just too risky to ever end in anything but disaster but Connor didn’t want to think about that most of the time. It was way more comfortable to tell himself that nothing bad would ever happen to them and that everything was going to end well. Everyone around him would have told Connor that he was living in complete and utter denial – if they knew what he was up to, that was – but Connor would probably not have listened either way so there would have been little use of telling him anyway.

As things were, Connor continued seeing Hank whenever he could. He made up excuses for his mother and bribed guards left and right. He was burning through his savings at a speed he would have never thought possible but if cutting off his right hand would allow him to see Hank more often, he would have done that too without a moment’s hesitation.

Maybe he was becoming more careless, Connor couldn’t tell in hindsight, but he must have at some point. Or maybe no amount of cautiousness could have prevented them from being found out at some point either way. 

All Connor knew was that one night he was already in bed but couldn’t sleep. He had spent the entire day lounging and napping in the gardens with his brother and therefore was not in the least bit tired. Then, suddenly, two armed guards marched into the room, pointed their swords at him and ordered him to get out of his bed.

“What do you want from me?!”, Connor asked as he got to his feet but received no answer. The men merely grabbed him by the arms and held him in place as he struggled. Somewhere in the pit of his stomach Connor already had a feeling that he knew what this was about. But he had been so careful! It just couldn’t be!

After several moments of him struggling in the guards’ hold, his mother entered the room, looking regal and stern as always. Her gaze landed on him and he could see disappointment crawl across her features. Cold fear took hold of Connor’s insides and threatened to suffocate him. 

"Mother!", Connor cried out when he saw Amanda enter the room, "What is the meaning of this?! 

His mother shot him a pitying look and shook her head. She carried something in her hand that Connor couldn’t quite identify in the darkness of the room. All he could make out was that it was rather soft-looking, possibly made out of fabric.

Connor struggled to free himself from the guards' tight grip on his biceps to get to Amanda. Surely, his mother could help. This had to be nothing more than a misunderstanding. 

"My poor boy", Amanda said and the tone of her voice made Connor stop his fighting, "I wish it did not have to come to this. But you are leaving me no choice…"

"What do you even mean?!", Connor cried out, trying yet again to free himself. It earned him a swift kick to the back of the knee which sent him falling to the floor. 

"I figure you recognize this?", Amanda commented and threw the item she had been holding onto the ground in front of Connor. At first, he wanted to ask what it was but then he took a closer look at it. 

Connor frowned. It seemed to be nothing but a dirty rag, brown fabric colored by some kind of dark liquid. Then he saw the holes in it. The fabric hadn't torn but had been cut with a sword or dagger. Connor paled at the realization that the holes were surrounded by that dark substance and that there was no way that substance was anything else than blood. 

And suddenly Connor knew, who this tunic belonged to. He had seen Hank wearing it inside the arena and out of it too. Connor’s own blood ran cold and he was sick to his stomach within seconds.

"What did you do to him?!", Connor barked, mind reeling with anger, fear, and desperation in equal measure. Amanda merely shook her head once more. 

"Witnesses told me you were seen with this subject. I had always suspected you to fall victim to such… _perversions_ , Connor, but with someone like him?", Amanda sighed, "I had to dispose of him."

A pained cry interrupted her and it took Connor a few moments to realize it had come from his throat. At the same time, tears began streaming down his face and he was shaken by violent sobs.

"Why?", he gasped out, looking at his mother, who was obscured by the film of tears in his eyes. 

"My dear boy, it was only to protect you", Amanda said. Her voice was unbearably soft and yet her words felt like she had struck Connor. 

"I spent years raising this family to the status it holds now", she continued, "And I did it all to give you and your brother a comfortable, beautiful life. If your _tendencies_ had been uncovered, it would have put us all in grave danger." 

Connor stared at the woman he had regarded as his mother his entire life and suddenly felt like a complete stranger stood before him. He always knew Amanda was an ambitious woman but that she would go so far to keep her family's status intact disgusted Connor. Suddenly, he could not look at her any longer and averted his gaze. Looking down at Hank's blood-soaked tunic suddenly felt easier than looking Amanda in the eyes. 

"So you had him murdered so we wouldn't lose our status quo?", Connor grit out between clenched teeth, burning hatred flaring up in his chest so intensely from one second to the next that he was afraid it would consume him entirely. 

"I did it to keep us safe", Amanda replied sharply, "I saved your life, Connor!" 

“And what happens now?!”, Connor barked, “Do you expect me to just go on, be your perfect little son and act as if nothing ever happened?!”

“Not at all”, Amanda answered, her voice turning so cold now that all the anger inside Connor was extinguished in an instant and replaced by fear. Was he going to suffer the same fate as Hank? Surprisingly, the thought didn’t scare him as much as he had anticipated. He didn’t know how he was even going to live on without Hank so not having to worry about that at all sounded kind of appealing at the moment. Even though, a glance at the guards’ daggers still made Connor’s stomach tighten with worry.

“I have decided that Rome is far too dangerous a place for you to stay in”, Amanda continued eventually, “There is just too much that might distract you from your path and lead you down dangerous roads."

Connor suddenly had a feeling that he knew pretty well, where this conversation was headed and from one minute to the next, the guards’ daggers didn’t look quite so painful an alternative anymore.

“I have deliberated with the emperor and he agrees with me”, Amanda spoke on mercilessly, “I have had some of your belongings packed and before the sun rises, you will be sent to an island, where you will spend the rest of your life in exile, away from all the temptations of Rome.”

Connor wanted to protest, wanted to put up a fight and rebel against the way his mother took away his life and future just like that. But he couldn’t find it in him. Why should he want to stay in a city that held no appeal to him now that the only man he loved was dead? And why should he beg to keep leading a life he hated with every fiber of his being. There was nothing in Rome that made Connor want to stay. Except for his younger brother, maybe, but he was so deep in their mother’s clutches by now that Connor doubted he would understand Connor’s feelings anyhow. 

Nevertheless, Connor felt tears run down his cheeks once more. Being sent away from Rome meant there would be nothing to remind him of Hank, no place for him to go and mourn him. He would be far away from the only place they had ever been at together and maybe he would forget about him altogether at some point. The thought was so painful that it made Connor lower his head and sob pitifully. 

A moment later, he felt his mother’s hand on his cheek. When Connor looked up, he found strict determination in her eyes but somewhere deep down, there might have been regret too. If it was because her perfect son had disappointed her or because she was genuinely upset about having to send him away, Connor couldn’t tell and he was not sure he cared either way. 

“It is in your best interest”, she said, voice eerily soft again. Connor averted his gaze, staring off into the distance as he waited for what was to happen next.

With a sigh, Amanda motioned towards the guards, who began dragging Connor out of the room. As they walked through the halls of their vast estate, Connor caught a glimpse of his brother, Niles, out of the corner of his eye. He stood in the doorway of his own room, tears streaming down his face and clinging to the doorframe for dear life. Connor tried to give him a reassuring look but he wasn’t sure he succeeded. 

The guards led him outside, where a carriage was already waiting. Connor was shoved into it roughly and one of the guards got in after him. Before the doors were closed, Amanda appeared next to the carriage one last time to talk to Connor.

“I am so sorry, my dear”, she sighed but like before, Connor was not entirely sure she meant it, “I wish there was another way. I will miss you until the end of my days and I will pray for you. Your brother and I will think of you often.” 

“I will think of you too”, Connor replied, voice hollow. He knew he wouldn’t remember his mother as fondly as she would him but his answer seemed to placate Amanda. She nodded, then turned around and returned into the house. The guard outside closed the door then signaled something to the carriage driver and the vehicle got into motion.

Connor composed himself quickly, once the house he had lived in for the past years was out of sight. He felt hollowed out from the pain and sadness that coursed through his veins. Losing his home and never seeing his family again was tough enough but it was outweighed by far by the knowledge that the man he loved was dead. He would never see Hank again and he had not even gotten a chance to bid him farewell. 

When the carriage drove past the arena, Connor burst into tears yet again. He desperately wished he could turn back time. If only he had never met Hank. Or if they had been more careful with their meetings. Maybe Hank would still be alive and Connor would have something worth staying in this horrible city. 

As it was, Connor drifted from bouts of crying until his eyes and throat hurt to icy cold apathy several times until they reached the harbor. By the time he set foot on the ship that would take him to his exile, he was thoroughly exhausted. When the boat slowly drifted out of the harbor, Connor contemplated for a second to simply jump overboard, drown himself and hope to be reunited with Hank in death. But something held him back. He doubted that Hank would have wanted his life to end so soon. The fighter had always said that he wished for nothing but happiness and a long life for Connor.

Connor surely couldn’t have the first anymore but maybe he could at least have the latter, honor Hank’s wishes in the only way he could: living on. 


	5. On to stranger shores - part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **TW/CW:** Some more murder and some very uncomfortable medical stuff (a wound is being cauterized)

Connor was out in the gardens with his brother and a few of the older monks when they first heard the faint booming noises in the distance. An elderly monk lifted his head from where he was bent down, plucking weeds from the soil in a patch of beets. He frowned for a moment, then shook his head and returned to his work. 

Niles, Connor’s brother, turned to him and raised a questioning brow. Connor only shrugged and continued digging holes to put more seeds into. He wasn’t too worried about the strange noises being carried over to their monastery by the wind. It was a cloudy day and maybe a storm was coming from somewhere nearby and what they were hearing was the rumbling of thunder. Then again, it sounded far too rhythmical to be thunder.

Connor didn’t think much more of it. Whatever it was, it would probably solve itself in due time. He continued his work in the garden alongside his brother and only wondered a little when the booming sounds seemed to become louder and louder. The young man was so engrossed in his work, that he paid the sound of metal scraping across stone somewhere in the distance no mind. 

Or at least he didn’t until he heard a sudden whirring noise and then a pained groan. Connor lifted his head and his eyes landed on the elderly monk, who had worked next to him and Niles. The man had fallen over, an arrow sticking out from his back. Connor’s eyes widened in shock but before he could even fully register what had happened, a second arrow buried itself in the ground mere inches from where Niles was kneeling.

Both brothers turned to see, who their attacker was. High, on top of the walls surrounding the monastery gardens, they saw a man, possibly in his late thirties. He was clad in thick, foreign clothes made of leather and all sorts of furs. Most of his face was covered by a dark, massive beard that reached almost to his collarbone. Connor watched him draw another arrow from his quill and aim it at some other, unsuspecting monk. Just as the man released the bowstring and sent the arrow on its way towards its target, the main gate to the gardens burst open to reveal a horde of roaring barbarians. They were all dressed in similar clothing as the archer and some wore helmets with horns on them on their heads. Many carried swords, some of them held axes but all of them seemed half-mad with the desire to pillage and kill.

“Norsemen!”, someone cried out in the courtyard, confirming Connor’s worst fears. Before he had made the conscious decision, he was on his feet and grabbed Niles’ hand. His brother struggled to get to his feet and then they were running towards the small chapel. 

While brothers fell and died around them, Connor and Niles barely made it to the small building at the end of the courtyard. They closed the doors behind them after they had made sure none of their brothers were trying to follow them and then placed a pew in front of the door to barricade it. Hiding in a dark Connor, huddled together like children they listened to the sound of pillaging and destruction outside and prayed that the Norsemen wouldn’t come and find them.  
But of course, they did. Neither the door itself nor the pew behind it proved to be much of a match for the Vikings’ axes. Within minutes they were inside the chapel and dragged Connor and Niles towards the altar, where they threw them down. One of the men, their leader it seemed, stepped out from the crowd and came to stand in front of the brothers. As Connor looked up at him, his heart stopped for several long seconds. He had seen the man before, in one of his previous lives. The Viking seemed to recognize Connor too, eyes widening in shock. 

“Connor”, he whispered, before realizing they weren’t alone and continuing in a booming voice instead, “Your brothers fought valiantly, while the two of you hid away like cowards. They even injured one of my men and now you will treat him.” 

Connor barely had the time to be mortified at learning that their brothers had tried to fight the Norsemen while he had fled instead. Hank gave a sign to some of his men and they carried one of their own into the chapel. While Connor’s mind still spun, they placed their comrade on the ground in front of Connor and Niles. There was a wound from which blood oozed in a constant stream. Deep down, Connor wished he would die before he and Niles could be forced to treat him. Many of their brothers had been killed today. One dead Viking was nothing in comparison.  
The man in front of them whimpered in pain and Connor almost immediately recognized him as the archer, who had ended the lives of so many friars less than an hour before.

“Why would we help you?”, he asked defiantly. He hoped he sounded braver than he felt and the shivers that wrecked his body weren’t too obvious. 

“Look around you, boy”, the man Connor had recognized as Hank said and gestured to the horde of Norsemen surrounding Connor and Niles, “I doubt you have much of a choice if you want to live.”

“I’d rather die”, Connor spat, rage beginning to boil low in his belly and replacing the fear that had tied his insides in a tight knot until now. Connor was sure that he had met Hank before and even though he hardly remembered anything about him, he was still rather sure the other man would never intentionally harm him if it could be avoided. People like them usually tended to protect each other rather than threaten one another to force their own will on them. The fact that Hank would do this to him made Connor angrier than he probably should be in a situation like this.

“Calm down, Connor”, Niles said next to him and the tone in his voice extinguished the flames of anger in Connor’s belly as quickly as they had come. Connor had never heard his brother sound like this and for a moment it scared him to the core. Then, he looked at Niles and saw the way with which he regarded the wounded warrior on the ground in front of them. There was a reverence to his gaze like he had found something he had thought lost a long time ago and couldn’t believe it was back and finally his to keep. Connor swallowed thickly. Niles must be like him and this man in front of him must be the person he belonged to. Connor had never known there were others like Hank and himself but there was no doubt about it with the way Niles looked at the injured Viking in front of them.

As much as he hated himself for it, Connor knew now that there was no way he could refuse to help the Norseman. Even if Hank was not really going to kill him, his bad conscience would later on, if he allowed Niles’ partner to die like this because he had been too stubborn to help. 

“Fine”, Connor barked out between gritted teeth, “I will have to get some supplies from my room.”

“I will accompany you there”, Hank announced without hesitation, “The rest of you stays here and makes sure the other boy has whatever he needs to treat Gavin.” The men around them didn’t seem too happy about the orders they were given by their leader but it didn’t seem like they were going to protest either and when Connor hurried out of the chapel, he could see them gathering wood from the destroyed pews to get a fire started at Nines’ bidding. 

“I would never have harmed you, I hope you know that”, Hank said as they walked through the courtyard and towards the monks’ sleeping quarters. Connor tried not to look too long at the bodies littering the ground around them or become nauseated by the smell of burning wood and flesh. This was his home and the men around him had been his brothers and Connor wasn’t sure he could ever forgive Hank.

He did not dignify the man’s words with an answer and instead continued on his way until they reached their destination. It was eerily quiet in the rooms and Connor did his best not to think of the possibility that he and Niles might be the only survivors of the raid. Nevertheless, a lump formed in his throat and a veil of tears suddenly covered Connor’s eyes. He rubbed at them quickly, not wanting Hank to see him this upset as he gathered the things he needed. 

They went into another few rooms to collect more supplies. As Connor made to exit the last and head back to the chapel, Hank stepped into the doorway, preventing him from leaving.

“I am sorry I am doing this to you”, he said and as heartfelt as it sounded, it did nothing to lessen the pain in Connor’s chest. Hank placed one of his massive hands on Connor’s shoulders but the young monk shrugged it off and shouldered his way past the man.

“Don’t touch me”, he hissed, his voice far more broken than he would have liked. But he figured it couldn’t be helped. 

As they made their way back through the courtyard and Connor was yet again confronted with the death and destruction the Norseman had brought to their monastery, he was tempted for a moment to throw the vials of herbal ointments and salves to the ground and destroy their contents. He would let Hank’s friend die and see what the Viking would do about it. The only thing that stopped him from doing exactly that was the thought of how devastating it would be for Niles to lose the man he was predestined to meet and fall in love with.

Connor wondered if god or destiny would make him fall in love with Hank too. He didn’t remember much of his previous lives. Maybe they hadn’t met much before, maybe they had. They could have been happy as well as desperate to escape their fate. Connor would never know and he wouldn’t know either what destiny had in store for him now. All he knew was that at the moment he felt nothing but seething hatred for the man following him back to the chapel. There was just no force, otherworldly or else that could make him fall for Hank right now.

Once they were inside the mostly destroyed building again, Connor realized contentedly that Niles had already done a good amount of work. He had seemingly gotten Hank’s men to bring him a bowl of water and a clean cloth as well as surrendering one of their swords to him and getting a fire going so he could cauterize their comrade’s wound. Connor could barely hide his proud smile. He knew that his brother could be energetic if he wanted to and was glad to see he had been able to stand his ground surrounded by a horde of Vikings. 

“What do you need?”, Connor asked as he sank on his knees next to Niles, spreading the utensils he had brought with him out in front of his brother.

“We need to hold him down so we can cauterize the wound”, Niles said, already climbing on top of the Viking and straddling his hips so he couldn’t move his lower body. Connor crawled towards his upper body and held him down by the shoulders.

“Be careful with Gavin. We still need him”, Hank said somewhere behind them but neither monk paid him any mind. Instead, Niles merely turned to find a fitting piece of wood on the ground and held it up to Gavin’s mouth.

“This is going to be painful. You should bite down on this”, he suggested in a tone that made it clear there was no room for debate. Gavin did as he was told even if he looked like he would rather insult Niles instead. 

Connor and Niles exchanged one last look. Then Niles grabbed the sword from where he had placed it in the fire to heat up the blade. Connor braced himself and then Niles pressed the scorching hot metal into Gavin’s skin. The smell that hit them was disgusting and Connor would have probably gotten sick if he wasn’t so occupied forcing Gavin to hold still. The Viking writhed in pain, the piece of wood in his mouth barely able to keep his pained cries contained.

“Stop whining so much”, Niles hissed suddenly, expression dark and focused, “Aren’t you supposed to be a fearless barbarian?!” Gavin looked like he was about to say something but instead bit down on the wood in his mouth harder. For a moment, Connor was sure that either the wood or the man’s teeth were going to give way any second but then Niles removed the blade from Gavin’s skin and the Viking as well as the two brothers breathed a collective sigh of relief. 

While Niles applied ointments and salves to Gavin’s burned skin, talking gently to him as he went, Connor retreated to a faraway corner of the chapel and watched the Vikings mill about from there. Predictably, Hank joined him not much later. 

“What are you going to do with us now?”, Connor asked, seemingly taking Hank by surprise. The man had probably prepared a whole speech about how he was sorry and didn’t want Connor to be angry with him anymore and it filled the young man with a sick sense of satisfaction to ruin it for him.

“What do you mean?”, Hank asked right back and Connor shrugged.

“You have destroyed our home and killed everyone we knew”, Connor needlessly reminded Hank, “My brother and I did your bidding and saved your friend. We are of no more use to you. Surely you must have plans to dispose of us too.” Something twisted in Connor’s stomach at the sight of the shock on Hank’s face and he fought it down viciously.

“I have no intention of ridding myself of you or your brother”, Hank said slowly, “We will stay here until Gavin is well enough to travel and then we will return to our home, taking you and your brother with us.” 

“And if I refuse to come with you?”, Connor wanted to know. There was just no way he would spend the rest of his life in the cold north by the side of the man he hated most of all. He would rather starve in the remains of this monastery. 

“I would not force you to join us”, Hank told him and Connor knew from his tone of voice that it was the truth, “If you choose to leave this place and build a new life elsewhere, I will let you.” 

“How very generous of you”, Connor hissed, then turned away from Hank abruptly. He was done talking to this man. As soon as everyone was settled in for the night, he would gather his few belongings and leave this place. And he would take Niles with him.

“Now leave me alone. I want to pray for my brothers, who you have cruelly murdered”, he added, folding his hands in front of him. Surprisingly, Hank actually left him and no one bothered him for the rest of the day.

When Connor entered Niles’ and his room later that night, he immediately saw there was no way Niles would accompany him. His brother had had Gavin brought to their room and placed in his bed. They were talking softly to each other as Connor came into the room and he wondered how Niles could look past everything Gavin had done today and just treat him so kindly. Maybe their bond was stronger than that of Hank and Connor. For some reason, that thought stung.

To distract himself from the turmoil in his head, Connor began to gather his belongings and stuffed them in a small burlap bag. But the more he thought about leaving his home and leaving Niles behind, the less Connor wanted to actually leave. Maybe he could start a new life elsewhere, far away from the monastery, but he could never do it without his brother by his side. They had been close since their childhood and the thought of never seeing Niles again was too painful for Connor to bear. The alternative was equally horrifying but if only he had his brother by his side, Connor thought it might be manageable.

So he stayed and several weeks later saw him on the deck of a drake headed towards the unknown.


	6. On to stranger shores - part 2

A little over a year later much had changed in Connor’s life. He had moved to the north, into a small settlement of Vikings near the coast and it actually wasn’t as bad as he had expected. Sure, even in summer it didn’t get as warm as in England and the cold winter nights had him freezing even under the mountain of furs and blankets Hank had given to him but there was less rain and the salty sea air made Connor feel refreshed and calm every time memories of his old life back at the monastery caught up with him and turned his world on its head. 

He lived in a small but comfortable hut with Hank – a fact he had hated at first, stating he would rather sleep outside but retreating inside fairly quickly after realizing how cold it would get at night – while Niles shared Gavin’s living quarters. Even with more than a year having passed since the Norsemen’s raid at the monastery, Connor still wasn’t sure he had forgiven Hank just yet. But they got along and Connor had had to admit to himself that Hank was not as bad as he had made him out to be at first. Still, he needed time and space to heal and Hank granted him that. Connor was more grateful than he could ever say for that.

As for the community they lived in, Connor didn’t have many complaints in that regard. He got along great with a headstrong woman named North, who lived on her own and could drink more than any man in their settlement. She tended to get in a lot of fights with the chief of their settlement, a small man named Richard, who had the face of a weasel and no fighting skill whatsoever. Connor often wondered how he had achieved his position in a society of fighters. Hank had once told him that Richard was an excellent tactician and diplomat and a counterweight to all the warriors in their community. Still, he agreed with Connor that he would rather see North at the head of their settlement and by his side during raids – the only thing she wasn’t allowed to accompany the men on due to Richard’s orders and the reason they fought so often. 

But as well as Connor and Niles had settled into the new environment, the last year hadn’t been purely happy. A little less than six months ago, Niles and Gavin had left the settlement together. Their departure had been preceded by several confrontations between Gavin and Richard that had, on more than one occasion, almost lead to Gavin being banished before he could leave of his own accord. It was common knowledge among the men in their community that Richard and Gavin hated each other and many told Connor that they had been surprised something like this hadn’t happened sooner. 

Apparently, it was a common practice among the Norsemen to just pack up one’s things and leave to find someplace else to live if one was unhappy in the community. And as soon as Gavin had made his decision to do just that, there had been no question that Niles would follow him. A relationship had blossomed between them in the past months that would have been unthinkable back in England but apparently, in the north, no one cared much about who one loved. It was liberating and filled Connor with a longing he couldn’t quite place – or rather, didn’t want to think about – whenever he saw Gavin and Niles together.

As much as Connor wanted his brother to be happy with the man he loved, he had still begged Niles to stay with him. Sure, he had friends and company among the men and women of their settlement but Niles was still the most important person in Connor’s life. He was his brother, his only family and Connor wasn’t sure he could bear a life without him. Niles had offered Connor to leave alongside him and Gavin but something held Connor back. Deep down, he knew what it was and he was quite sure Niles knew too. Still, he told his brother that he couldn’t leave a home behind again. Niles understood.

Not much later, Connor had to watch his brother leave. Both of them cried endlessly and held onto each other as long as they could. This was farewell. They would not meet again in this life and the thought hurt. As far as they could remember, they had always been together and the thought of being separated now was almost physically painful. Just before he left, Niles handed Connor an acorn. He had taken it with him from the gardens of the monastery all those months ago. He told Connor to plant it and remember him by it. Niles would do the same with a second acorn, wherever he would settle and through the roots of the trees, they would stay connected. Connor promised he would make sure the acorn grew into a mighty tree and then he watched his brother walk away. 

And now here he was. It was almost winter again, the days becoming shorter and darker far quicker than they ever had in England. Connor hadn’t dared plant the acorn yet, afraid he would bury all memory of his brother with it but that morning, he had awoken with a strange determination and had felt that today was the day he had to place it in the ground. Maybe Niles had found a new home with Gavin and destiny was asking Connor to establish the connection between them. Whatever it was, Connor soon found himself on a small patch of earth next to Hank’s hut, acorn in hand. 

He could feel Hank watch him from afar as he knelt down to dig through the hard earth. His fingers hurt and he knew it was far too cold already to be planting anything and it having any chance at making it through the winter. But he felt he owed it to Niles. Connor had postponed the planting of the tree for far too long already. All of a sudden it felt that if he didn’t do it now, something terrible would happen. And so he dug harder, creating a hole deep enough for the seed to grow into something big and strong. 

Tears ran down Connor’s face, dribbling into the dark earth underneath him, as he tried his hardest not to think about how much he missed his brother. Even with the company of Hank and North and all the other members of their community, Connor felt horribly lonely without his brother. Hank did his best to console him but sometimes that just wasn’t enough, no matter how grateful Connor was for the care and attention Hank bestowed on him. 

Finally, the hole was deep and wide enough and Connor placed the acorn in it almost reverently. His shoulders shook with heavy sobs as he covered it with earth again and patted the soil into place once the hole was fully closed again. He looked around himself and eventually found a beautiful, dark stone that he placed on the spot, where he had planted the seed for his and his brother’s tree. 

When Connor got back to his feet, he stumbled and bumped into a warm body behind him. He didn’t even have to turn around to know that it was Hank. Without thinking, Connor spun around, burying his face in Hank’s chest and sobbed against him. The man’s strong arms wrapped around him tightly and he murmured soothing words into Connor’s hair. A year ago, Connor would have been shocked and humiliated by how much he enjoyed being held by the man, who had taken his old life away from him and taken him to this cold, strange country. 

But there was no denying that Hank was for Connor what Gavin was for Niles. Destiny had created them as two halves of a whole and they craved to be close to one another whenever they met. Connor felt like he had denied himself long enough. He had held up his grudge against Hank long enough. Surely, his brothers back at the monastery wouldn’t hold it against him if he forgave Hank. Wasn’t forgiveness the purest act a Christian could bestow on another person, after all? 

Connor cried for a while longer. All his insecurities, fears and sadness seeped into the fabric of Hank’s tunic in the form of tears. And all through it, Hank held Connor, gently caressing his back and whispering calming words. When Connor finally felt like his tears had dried, he took a step back and looked at the wet patch on Hank’s clothing.

“I am sorry”, he muttered, rubbing at his eyes, “I just miss my brother so much.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for”, Hank assured him with a gentle smile, “It must be hard losing first your home and then your family.” Connor nodded, then shook his head. He thought about what he could say next for a long moment.

“I lost a lot in the last year”, he agreed with Hank, then allowed a small smile to spread on his face, “But I gained a lot too. You and everyone else here is as much a part of my family as Niles is or my brothers back at the monastery were. It might take me a while longer to come to terms with it but I will get there. Despite everything that has happened, I am glad to have you.” Connor looked up at Hank, to show him how sincere he was and saw tears glistening in the older man’s face.

A moment later, he found himself in Hank’s arms again. But this time, he wrapped his arms around the other man too and reveled in the feeling of holding him and being held in turn. Even though their relationship had begun with much pain and grief, Connor was sure he and Hank could turn it into something beautiful and become a true family in the future. The thought made him smile as he buried his face in Hank’s chest. Suddenly, this cold, dark country didn’t seem as cold and dark anymore.


	7. To love and to lose - part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **CW/TW:** Major character death (but like before it's only temporary). 
> 
> I'm only just now realizing how much death there is right now and I feel a tiny bit bad. But I promise there will be two very happy chapters soon!

Connor’s eyes grew wide as saucers as he watched the group of knights enter the courtyard, clad in shimmering armor and on the backs of beautifully decorated horses. He was filled with a fascination the way he had always been since he had seen his first knight at the age of four. Ever since, he had wanted to become one of the shining figures high on horseback, fighting for the rights of the oppressed and defeating evil. When his mother had sent him and his brother to the castle of Lord Kamski to be a squire there and become a knight one day, it had been like a dream come true.   
  
Life in the kingdom had been fairly quiet for the past years but now there was talk of war in the north. Always eager to stay in the king’s favor, Kamski was sure to round up all his vassals and smaller lords of the surrounding lands to send them to the king’s aid.   
And now at least thirty men were riding into the courtyard while hundreds more camped outside to be served for the night and sent off to battle the next day.  
  
Niles and Connor were ordered to take care of two knights from neighboring lands, who – from what the two young men had heard – had quite a complicated relationship with each other. Deep down, they were supposed to be good friends, but they engaged in quarrels far more often than was necessary or appropriate. Especially when alcohol was involved. Therefore, Kamski had chosen the brothers to tend to the two men. Connor and Niles always worked most efficiently when they were together and the lord had expressed his confidence at their ability to keep the two knights in check.  
  
One of the stablemasters guided Connor and Niles towards the men they would have to serve tonight. Connor stopped dead in his tracks and almost collided with a servant walking by close to him as he caught sight of Hank. Faint memories of times long since past clouded his mind and suddenly he knew why the mentioning of Hank’s name as Kamski had talked about the knight he was to entertain had tugged at his heartstrings the way it had. He was never quite sure what his dreams and memories meant but right now he was certain he had met Hank before, in a previous life. The faint memory of a cold and rough country and a mighty acorn tree clouded Connor’s mind for several long moments before he managed to shake it off.  
  
Next to him, Niles sucked in a deep breath and a look to his brother told Connor that he was experiencing the same thing. Without thinking, Connor took Niles’ hand in his for a moment and squeezed it tightly. Niles squeezed back before the angry stablemaster gestured for them to join him and the knights and finally take on their duties.   
  
“Are they even strong enough to take care of a horse?”, the younger knight, who had been introduced to them as Sir Gavin asked, sneering. On one hand, he held the reigns of a beautiful black horse. The horse whinnied behind him and threw its head from left to right erratically.   
  
“My Stormwind has a bit of a temper”, Gavin added with a kind of pride in his voice that seemed strangely out of place. Next to Connor, Niles squared his shoulders and held out his hand to be handed the reigns.  
  
“I have dealt with far worse”, he answered quickly and with a damning look in his blue eyes. Gavin laughed and raised a disbelieving brow at that statement.

“We shall see about that”, he commented vaguely, “Now get me to the stables. I’ll believe you when I see you dealing with her.” He nodded towards his horse and shot it an almost affectionate glance. Niles shrugged and turned around to lead Gavin away. The stablemaster had left too and with a start, Connor realized that he and Hank were alone. Their gazes met and Connor almost shivered at how cold Hank’s was.  
  
“Are you not going to take my horse?”, the man asked and Connor took the reigns to his grey steed. Their hands touched for the fraction of a second and it was like sparks going off between them.

“Do you not remember me?”, Connor asked, not yet ready to leave and lose sight of Hank again. Even if it was only going to be for a few hours.  
  
“Barely”, Hank muttered, “And I doubt I’d be more excited about seeing you if I did. Just look at you! All dressed up and trained to become just one more poor soul to be wasted away on the battlefields.”  
  
Connor blinked at that. He didn’t remember enough of Hank to know if he had always been this cynical but right now his words cut through him like a knife.   
  
“I am training to become a knight like you one day”, Connor said stupidly, as if Hank hadn’t just referred to that, “Is that not something good and noble?” Hank sneered at that and shook his head.  
  
“Yeah, I imagine that is what they tell children like you to make you excited about going off to battle and killing other living, breathing human beings”, he growled and a shiver ran down Connor’s spine.  
  
“But you will figure that out soon enough, I promise”, Hank added, expression growing even darker than it had been before, “I will go head to my quarters now. We will see each other at the feast. Take good care of Sumo.”  
  
This being said, he patted his horse’s flank and grabbed one of the saddlebags before heading off to the inside of the castle. Connor watched him curiously for a few more seconds before Sumo bumped his shoulder with his nose, effectively distracting Connor for a moment. With a soft smile, he patted Sumo and finally lead him towards the stables. On the way there, Connor was already deep in thought again.  
  
Once inside the stables, he found that Niles had kept a spot reserved for him and Sumo. Niles and Sir Gavin were standing in the one next to it, standing closer than was probably strictly necessary and talking excitedly about something that Connor couldn’t quite make out. Somehow, Gavin’s face looked far softer than before and Niles seemed to have let his usual guard down, too. Connor was a little jealous of their connection as he began to tend to Sumo and thought about what Hank had said.   
  
  
Later, at the feast, Connor stood in his spot behind Hank’s seat and refilled his goblet with wine whenever he asked. Hank had already asked for wine more often than any of the other knights Connor usually tended to did and the night had barely begun. Connor wanted to ask him about it but the memory of his cold demeanor from earlier stopped him from doing so. Hank probably wanted to be left alone either way.   
  
But when the night wore on and Hank just continued drinking, Connor regarded it as his duty to put his pitcher of wine down and guide Hank back to his quarters whether he liked it or not. Luckily, the knight didn’t put up as much of a fight as Connor had feared. He let himself be led through the cold, dark halls of the castle, leaning heavily on Connor as he stumbled along behind the squire. Connor enjoyed the warmth of Hank’s body against his but he would have probably enjoyed it even more if the circumstances were different. Unfortunately, that couldn’t be helped at the moment.   
  
He guided Hank safely to the small room he occupied and helped him sit down on the bed. Just as he was about to bid the knight a good night and turn to leave the room, he saw Hank fumble for something inside of his tunic and pull it out to look at it. Suddenly, Connor couldn’t leave anymore. Hank’s expression had gone sad, genuinely upset instead of the gruff anger from before. And Connor felt like he couldn’t leave the man alone without knowing the reason for it.   
  
“You see this?”, Hank asked into the silence between them and held the item he was holding out to Connor. The squire took a step closer and identified the item as a pendant attached to a small leather band. It bore a red rose, the symbol of Hank’s family for generations, as Connor had learned a few days ago. He had thought it funny, given the symbol on his family’s coat of arms were three blue roses. Connor nodded at Hank, who looked at the pendant again.  
  
“I inherited this from my father”, he said morosely, “He died when I was just a child. So did his brother, my uncle. And my brothers. All three of them.”   
  
“I am sorry for your loss”, Connor said, voice barely above a whisper. It was a stupid thing to say but he had no idea what else he could possibly tell Hank in a situation like this. He suddenly feels very small and very helpless. His only consolation was that Hank didn’t seem to be faring much better.   
  
“They all died fighting other people’s useless wars”, Hank continued, gaze empty and resting on the pendant still, “I survived by sheer dumb luck but maybe this time it’s my turn. And who do they send me the night before I leave? Some squire, who tries to tell me about the glory of war and only reminds me of the fact that the next generation is already waiting to die in equally useless wars.”  
  
It felt like someone had emptied a bucket full of icy water over Connor’s head. He tried to argue, wanted to tell Hank that what he did was grand and glorious but with what the knight had told him just now, it felt wrong to do so. It hurt having to ask himself if he had believed in a load of ridiculous lies other people had told him but with the way Hank now looked at him, Connor had no other choice.  
  
“I wanted to be a knight my whole life”, he muttered nonsensically, more because he felt like he should say something than in an attempt to defend himself or his dreams. Surprisingly, a sad smile spread on Hank’s face.   
  
“It is truly a shame we are only meeting now”, he sighed, “I am sure you will be a great knight and I would love to see you like that. But when you are, promise me to remember what I told you tonight.”  
  
“I will”, Connor promised, placing his hand above his heart like he was swearing an oath. Hank’s smile widened for a second before he yawned.  
  
“I should rest now”, he announced and ran a hand through his hair, “I have to be up early tomorrow morning.”   
  
“I bid you a good night then”, Connor replied and left the room before Hank could say anything more.   
  
Back in his room, Connor couldn’t sleep for half of the night. Thoughts swirled in his mind while his brother slept soundly next to him. Connor was anxious and excited all at once. His heart ached to go back to Hank and keep him company, fill him with confidence so he would go into battle strong and determined. Maybe, if he did, Hank would return and begin holding Connor again the way the young man remembered from previous lifetimes.   
  
It was as beautiful as it was scary, Connor thought, to be so utterly devoted to someone he had only met today. At least in this life. Deep down, he knew that his history with Hank went far back and that he had fallen for him ever time they had met. It still surprised him that it had happened again so easily and so quickly. And it hurt that he hadn’t been able to act on it while Hank seemingly hadn’t wanted to do anything either. But everything was said and done between them, it seemed. Connor could only hope that Hank would return from war and change his mind.  
  
That was what Connor thought about as he watched the knights leave the castle’s courtyard again the next morning. Merely a day ago he would have felt nothing but excitement and would have probably talked about nothing else for days. Now, though, he was filled with worry and dread. When the gate closed behind the last horse, Connor sent a prayer to the heavens that Hank would be brought back to him safely.


	8. To love and to lose - part 2

Connor looked out at the plain fields surrounding the castle, trying to make out something in the distance. This morning, someone from the regiment had arrived and informed everyone in the castle that their men were due to return later in the day. Ever since then, there had been a constant hustle and bustle around the castle. Cooks were busy getting their hands on whatever available food they had to prepare a banquet for tonight, gentlewomen rushed through the hallways to prepare the rooms for their guests and gleemen that had set up camp several towns over were invited to entertain that night.  
  
Niles and Connor had been busy too. They had helped some of the stable boys get everything ready to tend to their returning knights’ horses and had carried crates to and from the kitchen. Usually, such work would have been below squires of noble birth but with this many honorable guests arriving on such short notice, there was no time to pay any mind to convention. Everything had to be set and that was what counted.   
  
It was barely afternoon and Connor was tired to his bones. He had managed to sneak away and climb a ladder to the top of the castle walls without being seen. Up here, he had spent quite a while staring into the distance and trying to see if he could see their men arriving. His heart was racing the entire time, torn between excitement and worry.  
  
From what he had heard from the servants since this morning, the battle must have gone bad for their side. There had been considerable losses and Connor tried not to think of the possibility of Hank being one of them. The knight was past his prime, sure, but he was still an excellent fighter and strategist. There was no way he would endanger himself so much. At least that was what Connor told himself to calm his rapidly pounding heart.   
  
He stared off into the distance for a little while longer, until he heard his brother’s voice call out to him and he climbed down to help Niles with whatever task was left to do before the knights arrived.  


In the end, Connor didn’t see them arriving at the horizon like he had wished to. Instead, he worked for several more hours until, finally, someone announced the arrival of horses. It was late in the afternoon by then and Connor was tired and probably looked horrible. He wished he had time to at least splash some water onto his face but before he could even get as far as to tell anyone about that idea, Niles grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him from their current working station to the castle’s courtyard.   
  
Connor followed, the beating of his heart picking up speed again as he imagined what seeing Hank again would be like. Would he be harmed? Would Connor have to tend to his wounds? He would in a heartbeat, even though he had no experience with it. Connor would do everything for Hank even if the man didn’t want him to or didn’t seem to want anything to do with him at all. It didn’t matter.  
  
Niles and Connor took their place with the other squires, waiting patiently as their lord joined his servants in the courtyard and the gate was opened. Most of the army, those of low birth, would stay outside on the castle grounds and set up camp with their horses like they had done on their way into battle. The knights and lords, who had fought valiantly, however, were to stay inside the castle walls and be treated to lord Kamski’s hospitality once more.   
  
When the first knights entered the courtyard, Connor’s heart almost stopped in his chest. They looked nothing like the gallant men that had come here mere months ago. There wasn’t one of them, who didn’t look battered and bruised. Their wonderful, shining armor was dented and dirty or sometimes outright missing. There were no cheerful songs to be sung and none of them seemed to be happy to be here at all. Connor counted their numbers as they came riding into the yard and realized early on that they must have lost more men than they had first anticipated from rumors and stories told among the servants. Fear balled in his belly like an icy fist and with every man that passed, who wasn’t Hank, Connor became more and more upset.  
  
Suddenly, his brother gasped next to him. Connor looked over to Niles and then followed his gaze. The sight he encountered almost brought tears to his eyes.  
  
Gavin was slumped over on a horse that wasn’t the one he had been so proud of when they last met. His armor looked like he had been dragged through mud and stone for a considerable amount of time. One of his arms hung limply by his side and half of his face was covered with dirty bandages that were tinted red at the edges. As if he had noticed them staring, the man turned just as he passed them and stopped his horse in front of the brothers. When he turned to look at them, they could see that his nose was crooked in a way that looked like it had been broken.  
  
“Yeah, I know, pretty terrifying that”, he commented without the usual fire in his voice and gestured to his face.  
  
“I am just glad that you are back, Sir”, Niles answered without hesitation, trembling like a leaf in a breeze next to Connor. The older squire wanted to wrap an arm around his brother to comfort him but then he suddenly realized that the gates were being closed again and he still hadn’t seen Hank.   
  
“Where is Hank?”, he asked Gavin, wincing a little at the clearly hysteric undertone in his voice. Gavin’s expression darkened and he turned to fumble with something in one of the bags his horse was carrying.   
  
“He wanted you to have this”, he said after he had found what he had been looking for and tossed it to Connor. The brunet caught it and stared down at the item now in his possession. It was the rose pendant Hank had worn, the symbol of his house for centuries. Connor stared at it, trying to find the meaning behind all this. If Hank wanted him to have this, why hadn’t he given it to Connor himself? Why wasn’t he here to explain what all of this meant?   
  
Connor was just about to ask Gavin these questions when he caught sight of his beat expression and the tears in his brother’s eyes. Everything suddenly fell into place and the horrible truth settled on Connor like a heavy blanket that tried to suffocate him. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. The ground opened up underneath him. Niles’ steadying hand at his back was the only thing keeping Connor from collapsing onto the ground in a weeping pile right this moment.  
  
“I am very sorry”, Gavin muttered above him, voice tight, before turning and guiding his horse towards the other end of the courtyard, where the knights were being welcomed by Kamski. Connor watched him go as tears began to blur his vision. He tried to listen to what Kamski said but none of the words were making any sense to him. Tears began to roll down his cheeks as Connor clutched the pendant tightly to his chest and tried to contain his sobs. Niles took Connor’s free hand in his and squeezed it tightly but it wasn’t much of a comfort either.  
  
The man Connor loved was dead and the world felt so much darker without him in it.  
  
  
By the end of Kamski’s speech, Niles dragged the still quietly crying Connor with him until they found Gavin again. The young knight had dismounted the horse he had come on by then and handed the reigns to Niles with a tired expression on his face.   
  
“What happened to Stormwind?”, Niles asked tentatively and earned a snort from Gavin that was somewhere between sad and angry.

“What do you think?”, he sighed heavily, “Got hit by an arrow, threw me off and that’s the last time I saw her alive. Found her dead on the field once the fight was over. I only hope she did not have to suffer.”  
  
Niles nodded next to him and Connor was quickly growing tired of this talk about death. He had lost the love of his life. How were these two here mourning the death of a horse when Hank’s corpse was probably rotting in some field half a world away without the chance of ever receiving a proper burial? Anger and sadness raged in Connor in equal measure and when his brother told Gavin that he was glad that he was here and alive, Connor snapped. He took the horse’s reins from Niles and stormed off towards the stables.  
  
He led the horse to a spot near the back and tied it to a post before beginning to angrily tear the saddle off of it. Connor had barely gotten in off and started to brush the animal’s dark fur when a hand settled warm and soft on his shoulder. For a split-second, he thought it might be Hank but when he spun around, torn between hope and desperation, it was only Niles. His brother looked at Connor with such understanding and compassion that he finally allowed himself to let go.

Dropping the brush, Connor fell to his knees and buried his face in his hands to keep his sobs down. The stables were filled to the brim with other men and horses and he didn’t want to risk any of them seeing him cry over Hank. Niles knelt down with him, wrapping his arms around Connor’s quaking shoulders and resting his head on top of Connor’s. He held him while Connor sobbed and shook, grief rolling over him like a wave and taking him under.  
  
Niles didn’t say anything, only held Connor as he wept for the love he had lost. He had hoped against all hope that Hank would change his mind upon his return and be with Connor after all but he hadn’t even returned and that was far worse than rejection. Connor would never see his face again and the knowledge of that made him want to throw up the meager breakfast he had had. The world felt empty without Hank in it and he had no idea how to cope with it.  
  
Eventually, the tears stopped coming and Niles helped Connor back to his feet. Methodically, without his surroundings truly registering, Connor took care of the horse and fulfilled the rest of his duties for the day. Since Hank was no longer around, he was assigned some other knight to serve during the banquet that night. He fulfilled all this man’s demands for food or drink but he wasn’t as excited, his heart not as into the task as it had been with Hank. Late at night, after the festivities had ended, Connor returned to his chamber, collapsed on the bed and cried until sleep overtook him.   
  
  
  
Several days later, Connor left the castle’s walls through one of the small doors behind the kitchen and stalked through the cold morning air. He had to be back at the castle soon enough to tend to his duties for the day but for now, he couldn’t even think about that. Connor had something to take care of first.   
  
He didn’t have to go too far. Near the castle was a small hill with an ancient willow tree on it. Connor could see it from the window to his and Niles’ chamber and he was sure that it was a magical place. Nothing so beautiful could ever be created without the help of something otherworldly. When he was younger, he had loved staring at the tree for hours on end, thinking about fairies living in its crown and coming out to dance at night. Today, he thought there was no place more fitting to honor Hank’s memory.  
  
Connor climbed the hill and knelt down between the massive roots of the willow tree. He set down the bag he had brought and begun digging a hole. Connor hadn’t wanted to draw any more suspicion to himself than would already be the case if someone saw him leave the castle, so he hadn’t brought any supplies. He dug into the cold, hard earth with his bare fingers, going deeper and deeper, shoveling dirt to the side, where it hopefully wouldn’t land on his clothes. By the time the hole he dug was deep enough, his fingers were caked in dirt and hurt from the cold and exertion. Connor wasn’t bothered by it, though.   
  
Carefully, he removed the rose pendant from where it had been placed around his neck. He had worn it day and night for the past few days and every time he had seen his reflection in a body of water, sadness had taken him again. Connor had found himself wondering if this was what it always felt like. He only had a very vague recollection of previous lives, if at all, and in none of them could he remember mourning Hank like this. The pain was almost unbearable and so Connor had decided to create a place just for himself, where he could mourn Hank.  
  
He took the pendant and placed it in the hole he had dug. Hank would most likely have wanted him to wear it but he couldn’t bear to continue his life with a reminder of what he had lost constantly around his neck. Therefore, Connor had decided that it would better be kept in the place he had chosen as his and Hank’s.   
  
After the jewelry had been carefully placed in the soil, Connor turned to the small burlap sack he had brought with him and opened it. With gentle fingers, he removed a rose from it. It was a sprig from the rosebush Amanda had given him and Niles when they left their home to become squires in Kamski’s castle. The roses his mother had cultivated were beautiful and strong. They could withstand wind and weather and their thorns would protect them from animals that might try to eat them.   
  
To Connor, the flowers were just like Hank. He might not have been as delicate as a rose but he had been beautiful and strong like one. Sure, the knight had shown his thorns clearly to keep everyone away and protect himself from harm but those, who dared come closer could marvel at his beauty and enjoy his company.   
  
Tears ran down Connor’s cheeks at those thoughts and he hurried to plant the rose and get back to the castle. As he went, he turned back again and again until he lost sight of the flower.  
  
From this day on, Connor visited the hill frequently. Often, he would cry. Sometimes, he would tell Hank about the goings-on in the castle and in the rest of the world. It wouldn’t bring the knight back to him but it brought him the comfort he craved. At night, he would stand at his window from where he could see the hill in the distance and fall asleep, hoping to get to keep Hank in a new life.


	9. The art of loving you - part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **CW:** Explicit sexual content. FINALLY some happiness for these two :D

„How much longer will I have to stay like this?”  
  
Hank sighed and let his arms sink to his sides as he looked up at the man standing on a pedestal in the middle of the room. The brunet looked back at him almost petulantly, lower lip pushed out but still stubbornly holding the pose Hank had ordered him to take almost an hour ago.  
  
“I thought it was obvious the statue was not finished yet, Connor”, Hank replied dryly, gesturing towards the block of marble that stood between them. He had only begun sculpting his newest work this morning and until now, only vague outlines of a person were distinguishable from the otherwise flat surface of the stone.   
  
“If you would have told me I would have to stand still for ages until you finished your sculpture, I would have said no”, Connor complained and finally dropped the pose he had been instructed to take. He stepped down from the pedestal and wiggled the arm he had raised above his head for far too long now.   
  
“No way would you have refused”, Hank retorted, smirking, “You are far too vain not to want to see your face carved into marble some noble will later put up in his garden.”   
  
At Connor’s indignant look, Hank laughed and put down his tools. Maybe taking a break was not the worst idea. It was the middle of summer in Venice and the city was suffering from the heat. The soft linen shirt Hank was wearing, clung to his chest uncomfortably and he envied Connor, who was lounging around the room completely naked. He did not seem to feel much cooler than Hank, though, if the faint sheen of sweat Hank could make out on his skin was anything to go by. 

“Here, drink something with me”, Connor said, walking over to Hank with a bottle of sweet wine in his hand. Hank smiled, took it and drank in big gulps before handing the bottle back to Connor so he could do the same.

The wine and the heat made him dizzy and the alcohol only made Hank feel even warmer. Connor seemed to notice too and a mischievous grin spread on his face.  
  
“You seem awfully hot”, he commented, placing the bottle of wine on the floor and taking a step towards Hank, “You should take off your shirt or you could faint.”   
  
Hank chuckled at that but did what Connor asked for. Within seconds of the shirt being off, Connor’s lips were on his and his hands pressing against the skin of Hank’s chest. Hank sighed into the kiss as Connor began to drag his nails across Hank’s pectorals. In return, the taller man wrapped his arms around Connor and let his hands roam across his naked back and ass. Connor mewled and melted into the kiss, before taking a step back and looking at Hank with the same grin as before.  
  
“Take off your clothes”, he said, grinning, and without waiting to see if Hank would obey or not he turned around and walked towards a table at the far side of the room. Hank knew he was going to fetch the vial of oil they always kept there and felt excitement course through his body at the prospect of getting intimate with Connor despite the heat. The young man was impossibly greedy when it came to physical intimacy and it was not for the first time that Hank was glad that fate had brought them together when he was still in the prime of his youth for once. Some days it was hard enough to keep up with Connor’s appetite even in a body that was just slightly older than the brunet’s. Hank had no idea how he would have coped if he was his usual 20 to 30 years older than Connor in this life.  
  
In a hurry, he grabbed an old sheet from a different corner of the room and spread it out on the floor. Then he took off the rest of his clothes and was naked by the time Connor returned to him, vial in hand. The brunet looked him up and down appreciatively before sinking down onto the sheet and motioning for Hank to do the same. Without hesitation, the blond obeyed and settled comfortably next to Connor.   
  
They kissed for a while, giving and receiving pleasure and staying close to each other for as long as they could. More often than not, they had to break their kisses against their will, though, to prevent the sweat on their bodies to glue them together. Eventually, Connor threw one of his legs over Hank’s hip and scooted closer to him, until their erect lengths were pressed together. Hank sighed softly at the contact and then hissed when Connor poured some oil over them. By some miracle, it was still slightly colder than the rest of the room but to his hot cock, it felt like it had been dipped into a bucket full of icy water.  
  
Luckily, the cold didn’t hinder Hank’s arousal and he swiftly wrapped a hand around both their lengths and began to stroke slowly. Connor mewled, moving closer to him and tangling his hands in Hank’s hair. The whole thing was a slow, unhurried affair. Every movement made new beads of sweat cascade over their bodies and they couldn’t get too close lest they risk becoming too hot and having to part.

It wasn’t the first time they had done this in less than ideal circumstances, however, and Hank must be doing something right. Connor was as vocal as ever, moaning and whimpering whenever Hank’s thumb swiped across the heads of their erections. Hank only had eyes for him. Seeing Connor lose himself in pleasure was a sight to behold and Hank loved to cherish every second of it. Between kisses and Connor burying his face against Hank’s chest to bite at the flesh and leave marks it wasn’t always easy but it was satisfying every time.   
  
The minutes stretched on like molasses and when Connor spilled between their bodies with a high-pitched whine, Hank was not sure how much time had really passed. Still riding the high of his climax, Connor squeezed one of his hands between them and joined Hank’s hand in an effort to bring him release too. It only took about half a dozen strokes before Hank came too, muffling a shout in Connor’s shoulder and shuddering next to him.  
  
They cleaned themselves with a corner of the sheet, wiping some of the sweat off their bodies in the same movement. As they tried to stay close for some post-coital cuddling, however, they soon realized it was far too hot. They tried to find a solution for several minutes but in the end only rolled away from each other, lying a few inches apart and trying not to melt into the fabric underneath them. 

The two men stayed like this for a while, until Hank decided it was time to continue his work.


	10. The art of loving you - part 2

Hank felt like he would melt into the floor if he had to stay inside the house for much longer. The worst of the summer had passed and yet it was still decidedly too hot for the many layers of clothing he was wearing. If there was some chance for him to get out of this, Hank would take it but there was none. He was the guest of honor, his statue about to be unveiled to dozens of people by his employer and their host for the evening. So Hank stayed put, a glass of wine in hand while he waited until his employer finally deemed the time for the unveiling to have come.  
  
Connor had wandered off for a bit but Hank could hear his laughter nearby. The brunet loved to meet new people and talk to as many of them as he could in one evening. Hank, on the other hand, much preferred the solitude of his own home. Unfortunately, as an aspiring artist and sculptor, he could barely turn down an invitation to go out and get to know important people. He just couldn’t miss out on the chance of meeting someone, who might commission a new painting or a statue. Life in Venice was expensive and Hank had to get by somehow.

That didn’t make him any less uncomfortable, though, and he felt himself longing for a way out of this. Connor, as always, seemed to sense his discomfort and found a way to end the conversation he was currently engaged in to go join Hank in the corner he had found to hide away from the turmoil at least a little. Shielding them from view, Connor took Hank's hand in his and squeezed softly.  
  
“We can go home soon”, he whispered, already knowing what bothered Hank. Taking a sip from his glass of wine, Hank sighed and nodded. Connor was right and yet it didn’t make him feel the slightest bit better.

“I just wish this was already over”, Hank sighed, enjoying the feeling of Connor’s thumb caressing the back of his hand.

“I know”, Connor said with a reassuring smile, “But we are not leaving before you have had your big moment. You have worked hard on this and you deserve the recognition.”  
  
Hank only smiled weakly in reply and took another sip of wine. He knew that Connor was right and yet he hated being the center of attention. Sure, he wanted to be known and recognized enough to bring in more work and more money but he could very well do without being invited to festivities like this that were mainly just for the host to show off what great taste they had anyway.  
  
“Could you not at least try to look like you enjoy yourself?”, Connor asked, using his best puppy dog eyes on Hank, “So many people I have spoken to are very excited about your art. Some of them are here because they have seen some of your other works and were so fascinated by them they wanted to see your latest creation. I am sure many of them would like to talk to you but you look like you would eat them alive if they tried.”  
  
Hank grimaced at that. Maybe that was why he had such a hard time finding employment lately. He could be charming and cheerful whenever he wanted to and his looks usually did the rest for him. It was just that in venues like this he hardly bothered. Hank was uncomfortable enough as it was. Trying to put on a mask and being someone he wasn’t would only make it even worse and he doubted that would help his case much either.   
  
Connor seemed to sense his conflict. He grabbed Hank by the wrist and dragged him out of the main room and down some hallways until they found a deserted corridor somewhere. Knowing Connor, Hank already feared the worst and prepared to tell Connor that they couldn’t engage in anything sexual while at someone else’s house but before he could get to that, Connor had already pressed his lips to Hank’s and was kissing him with abandon.   
  
For the briefest of moments, Hank tried to shove Connor away but when the brunet didn’t do any more than keep on kissing him gently, Hank allowed himself to relax into it. Eventually, Connor’s hands came up to toy with the few loose curls that had escaped the ponytail Hank had put his hair in and Hank sighed into his mouth contentedly. Connor’s lips pulled into a smile against Hank’s just before he stopped kissing him and took a step back.

“There, now you are smiling”, Connor stated, obviously proud of himself, “Now think of how you feel right now every time you feel bad tonight and this get-together will be over before you know it.” Hank would love to believe Connor but he doubted that things would be quite so easy. As it turned out, however, Connor’s good mood was far more contagious than Hank had anticipated and he found himself unable of disagreeing with the brunet.  
  
Taking Hank’s hand in his again, Connor walked both of them back to the main room. There, Hank was immediately taken away by their host to finally unveil his work. Hank shot Connor one last, worried look before he stepped in front of the gathering of excited guests and put on a smile. Surprisingly, it made Hank think back to the kiss he and Connor had just shared and smiling was a lot easier than he had anticipated.   
  
Their host, a big, greasy-haired man named Zlatko went on and on for minutes about how proud he was of Hank’s work and how much he believed in him. Hank smiled politely, trying not to think about how the rest of Zlatko’s collection outed him as a man, who had no understanding of art at all and only liked to surround himself with works of art to seem like more than he actually was. Hank tried to tell himself that there was no reason why he should care as long as he got paid but somehow the fact that the amount of work both he and Connor had put into the statue would hardly be properly appreciated by the man, who commissioned it, angered him. Connor, whether in person or sculpted from marble deserved to be appreciated in Hank’s mind. 

Still, he smiled all through Zlatko’s speech and then helped the man lift the heavy cloth off of the statue to let their audience see. There were several excited gasps and appreciative murmurs. Some guests even began to clap. But the only opinion Hank really cared about was that of his muse himself.   
  
Connor stood a little to the side of the crowd and beamed happily at Hank. His eyes sparkled with excitement and he kept looking back and forth between Hank and the statue. The fact that he could get Connor this excited about seeing his own body carved from marble made an intense feeling of pride spread throughout Hank’s chest. Connor was incredibly vain and knew full well the effect his appearance tended to have on people. And yet he gaped at the statue that depicted his body sans head, looking like he had had no idea until now that he was this beautiful. Hank was beyond happy to know that he could make Connor feel this way.   
  
If he could have, Hank would have immediately walked over to him, taken him home and spent the rest of the night telling Connor how much he loved him. Unfortunately, Hank first had to deal with an onslaught of guests, who wanted to talk to him. Many of them congratulated him on his excellent work, praised the statue and asked for prices in case they wanted something for themselves. Others tried to engage him in in-depth discussions of the value of art which Hank tried to avoid as much as he could.   
  
Finally, there was only one man left. He was obviously far past 60 years old and leaned heavily on a cane. He approached Hank slowly, a young man with two differently colored eyes following closely by his side. Hank wondered briefly if that was the man’s son but didn’t get to ask because the man opened the conversation quickly.   
  
“Impressive work of art”, the man said, nodding towards the statue behind Hank, “You are extremely talented, young man.”   
  
“Thank you. I do my best”, Hank replied, trying to stay humble, like he had been told to back when he was still learning. The man in front of him smiled, then cleared his throat.  
  
“You might not know me. My name is Carl Manfred”, he introduced himself and Hank’s eyes went wide. A decade or two ago, Manfred had been the most sought-after artist in all of Italy, if not on the entire continent. He had created paintings and statues for nobles in countless countries and legend said he had even created some pieces for the pope himself. As he grew older, Manfred had withdrawn himself more and more from the public and for years no one had even heard any news on him. To meet him here and now and have him compliment his work was more than Hank could have ever asked for.  
  
“It’s an honor to meet you, Sir”, Hank hurried to say but Carl simply waved him off.

“That’s all people ever say to me these days”, he sighed, “I wish they would come up with something original for once.” Hank wanted to apologize but Manfred and his companion chuckled knowingly amongst themselves and he realized that this was in no way meant as a way to scold him. Still, he felt scrutinized under the two men’s gazes and didn’t know what to do with that feeling.   
  
“What brings me here”, Manfred continued after a moment, “Is that I am starting my own little guild of sculptors and artists of all kinds. My Markus here is my best student right now but there is always room for others to join in. I still have many connections all around the country and more money than I could ever spend on myself in all my life. I’d rather spend it on promising artists like you or Markus than have it rot away in a purse.”   
  
Hank blinked owlishly at Manfred. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. To be under the wing of someone with the connections and monetary means to greatly further his career was all he could dream of and more than he would have ever dared ask for. And to think that Manfred had chosen him of all people made Hank’s stomach do excited flips.   
  
“What do you say?”, Manfred asked, a smile spreading on his face, “Of course, your muse would always be welcome at my home, too.” He turned and looked at Connor, who was already chatting with various other guests a little further away.  
  
Hank blushed furiously at the knowing smile Manfred bestowed on him when he turned back around. 

“You have a special kind of relationship, do you not?”, he wanted to know and for lack of knowing what to say Hank only made a strangled noise.  
  
“Love is nothing to be ashamed of”, Manfred told him, his eyes taking on a wistful expression, “She is what helps us create the finest pieces of art. You should cherish what you have here and never let anyone destroy it.”   
  
“I will make sure of that”, Hank promised, relief and excitement coursing through him in equal measures, bringing a wide grin to his face, “I am eternally grateful for your generous offer and would love to take you up on it. I cannot thank you enough for what you are offering to me and-“ Hank would have rambled on for several more minutes but Carl lifted his hand and he closed his mouth immediately.  
  
“You can thank me another time”, Manfred said, “Now you should spend the rest of the night celebrating with your muse. Zlatko will tell me where you live and we will be in contact.”   
  
Hank couldn’t help but thank Carl over and over again before they finally parted ways and he could return to Connor. Luckily, the group he had been talking to seemed to disperse too so they were soon alone and free to talk to each other.  
  
“Carl Manfred offered me a place in his guild of artists”, Hank told Connor immediately the moment he got the chance. He was bursting at the seams with excitement and when Connor’s eyes widened, a good deal of pride mingled with it. Hank could see how hard Connor had to fight the urge to congratulate him with a kiss. Instead, they settled for a brief hug, Connor squeezing Hank tightly as a promise of what he planned for him later in the evening.  
  
“That is wonderful news”, the brunet said, gesturing to a nearby servant to bring them two new glasses of wine, “We should celebrate!”   
  
They clinked their glasses and drank and suddenly Hank was so full of love and happiness that it was almost physically painful. He couldn’t get the wide smile off his face and every time he looked at Connor he felt like his heart was just going to burst right out of his chest. It wasn’t often that Hank was so genuinely and unconditionally happy and he wanted to cherish every moment of it. Connor seemed to feel the same if the warm look in his eyes was anything to go by. And that was the most beautiful thing about their relationship to Hank: Even if they couldn’t be obvious in public and even if they weren’t even talking their love for each other was palpable.  
  
Hank only remembered things very vaguely but he knew that their lives together hadn’t always been happy ones. But that only made him want to make the most out of this one and to give Connor the life he deserved. And becoming Carl Manfred’s protégé seemed like a very good first step towards that goal.


	11. Children of war - part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **TW/CW:** Death, References to war, References to murder (Death not in this chapter but I always put TWs and CWs in the first chapter and they are valid for both so I'm keeping it that way)

Hank trudged slowly through the snow, wind howling around him, and pulled his cheap excuse for a coat tighter around himself. It was awfully cold and he had no idea where he even was anymore. He suspected from how long he had been walking he had to be on the territory of the Holy Roman empire by now but he couldn’t say for sure. In winter, the Holy Roman empire looked just like France or the Netherlands did. Everything was covered with snow and the sun hid behind a thick curtain of clouds.   
  
If anyone asked Hank what he was even doing out here all by himself in the dead of winter, he was not sure he could give them a satisfying answer. Some time ago – he didn’t even know if it had been months or years at this point – a war had broken out on their continent. Hank barely even remembered how it started anymore. One king hadn’t liked the religion of his neighbor and before they knew it, half of Europe was engaged in a bloody conflict that cost lives left and right and that just couldn’t seem to end.  
  
After his village had been burned down, taking the lives of Hank’s wife and son as well as everyone else the man had ever known and loved, Hank let himself be recruited as a mercenary to some lord or king. He didn’t remember, who it was and he had never cared what they had fought for and against whom. All he knew was that he traveled through the lands for a while, killing people he was told were the enemy but who were probably innocent, and feeling more and more awful each day.   
Eventually, he had left the men he had been traveling with and from then on he had made his way across the continent alone.  
  
Finding shelter for one night was easier now that he was on his own. Other things were much more difficult. Hank learned that the hard way. A lone traveler was always more vulnerable than a group. When, a few nights into his life as a lonely traveler, Hank was robbed, he had managed to defend himself and save his life but the robbers had still taken his money. Ever since he had made his living by begging or offering help on nearby farms. But barely anyone would let him stay for more than a few days. He was a stranger and possibly dangerous. Hank couldn’t blame the farmers.   
  
But now that winter arrived they didn’t give food as freely anymore either and that was becoming a problem.

Hank tried not to think about it too much as it only made his empty stomach hurt worse. He had eaten his last bit of bread this morning and had spent the rest of the day stumbling through a snowed-in landscape. There was no farm or hut in sight that might give him shelter for tonight and Hank refused to acknowledge how much that worried him. Sure, he had slept outside on his own many times before but that had been during the summers when the nights had been warm enough for him not to worry about freezing to death in his sleep.  
  
Trying to think of something, anything even remotely uplifting, Hank continued his way through the snow and mud at his feet. He tried not to think about how, if this thrice-damned war had never begun, he could be at his own home now. It had been nothing special but it had been his and he had had a fireplace there and enough food to last him and his family through the winter. Hank wouldn’t have to go bother strangers with his presence or beg for scraps on their doorstep. If he still cared, he would be humiliated by how low he’d sunk.  
  
Then, finally, after god knows how much more time spent in the freezing cold and with the sun rapidly setting in the west, Hank saw lights not too far away. Where there was light, there had to be people. Hank walked towards it faster without consciously deciding to do so. The mere chance that he might be allowed to spend the night in someone’s home or even in their stable almost made him run towards the little farmhouse. As he came closer, he saw smoke emerging from a chimney at one end of the house and he could almost imagine the warmth the fire would bring to the inside of the house.  
  
Before he knew it, he was knocking on the front door, praying the inhabitants would let him in.   
  
“Who’s there?”, a male voice called out and Hank felt his heart stop in his chest for a second. He had heard this voice before, decades, centuries, millennia ago. It belonged to a young man with brown hair and beautiful eyes that managed to enchant Hank every time they met.   
  
“A lonely traveler”, Hank answered, hoping Connor would recognize his voice too. Hank imagined he would remember the history they had together and would offer him shelter, at least for the night. But for the longest time, nothing happened. Hank was just about to knock again when the door was opened almost violently.   
  
Connor looked at him with a coldness in his eyes that Hank had never seen in them before. He couldn’t be much older than 25 but he looked far older than that. Worried lines had engraved themselves in his face that looked even sharper and more angular than it usually did. Connor was thinner than usual, too, if such a thing was possible. The clothes he wore were far too big for him and clung to his frame like rags. 

“What are you doing here?”, he hissed, startling Hank out of his observations, “Have you come to rob us?”   
  
“Of course not!”, Hank hurried to reply. Surely he must look more like a robber than a respectable man but there was nothing he could do about that now. He understood Connor’s worry even if he was not entirely sure why the brunet wouldn’t assume Hank would leave him in peace, given the history they had.   
  
“I am all alone and looking for a place to stay for the night”, Hank explained and Connor frowned, “I will leave first thing tomorrow. I can even stay in your stable.” He said it even though he would rather stay with Connor. Reconnecting in their new lives was difficult sometimes but it was always worth it. Spending the rest of this war on a small farm with Connor seemed far more appealing to Hank than continuing his travels.  
  
At that moment, a young woman approached them from a corner of the room. She was as thin as Connor, her blond hair matted and unkempt and her clothes must have seen better days. But the thing about her that really caught Hank’s attention was the infant she carried on her hip. Hank’s gaze was glued to the sleeping child and he felt hot and cold all at once. All the dreams his mind had spun these past few moments about spending his life with Connor crumbled to dust in an instant. Connor already had a family. He had built a life for himself and Hank was too late to become a part of it.   
  
“Who is this, love?”, the woman asked and Hank barely dared look at her. Her big, blue eyes were filled with fear but he was sure that without it and underneath all the grime she was a true beauty. As much as it hurt to admit, Connor had truly found himself a formidable wife there. 

“Just an old friend, Chloe”, Connor replied and Hank’s head snapped up from where he had been staring at his feet for the last moments, “He will stay with us for the night. He can sleep by the fireplace.”   
  
“Thank you”, Hank said and he hoped it conveyed how truly grateful he was. Even if they couldn’t be together in this life, Connor was willing to treat him with kindness. That was more than Hank could ask for. And more of a courtesy than he had extended to the young men in some of their past lives, a cynical voice at the back of his head reminded him.  
  
“Come in, then”, Chloe offered, trying to give him a smile, “I was just about to prepare dinner anyway. We cannot offer you much but I hope a stew will be alright with you.”   
  
Hank stepped inside and Connor closed the door behind him. Immediately, the small space felt a lot warmer and Hank heaved a sigh of relief.  
  
“I am so hungry I would even eat the breadcrumbs you dropped at the table”, Hank told Chloe, who actually laughed a little at that, “Stew is more than fine with me.”   
  
All of them migrated to the other end of the room towards the fireplace. Chloe set about preparing dinner, while Hank sat down near the fireplace to warm his limbs. His fingers and toes prickled painfully as feeling returned to them. But it was nowhere near what he felt at the sight of Connor cradling his child in his arms, expression softening as he gently talked to them.   
  
“It has been a long time since I have seen a sweet little family like yours”, Hank sighed after a while, smiling softly when Connor’s child turned in his arms to look at him.  
  
“It is a terrible war”, Chloe said, seemingly deep in thought as she stirred the contents of a pot she had placed over the fire, “It has destroyed so many families and every day I am worried it will come to take mine too.”  
  
“I would never let that happen”, Connor promised her without a second of hesitation and Chloe turned and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.   
  
As much as it hurt to watch, Hank felt happy for Connor, too. He had carved out a life for himself and was seemingly content despite the circumstances. Hank could only hope that they would be back together with each other in their next life. For now, he was content to see Connor interact with his wife and child. Sure, Hank wished it could be him the young man spoke so kindly to but he did not begrudge him for the happiness he had found for himself. He knew Connor would never hold it against him either, were their roles reversed.   
  
Over dinner, they spoke very little. The child had woken up and Chloe cradled them in her arms, carrying them through the small room and humming a sweet melody to calm them back down. Hank and Connor ate in silence. Something within Hank wanted to strike up a conversation, talk to Connor about what they remembered from past lives and how much he would like to stay close to him. But he could hardly do that while Connor’s unsuspecting wife took care of his child mere steps away. So Hank ate in silence and hoped that his demeanor could somehow express to Connor just how happy he was to see him again.

  
  
After they had finished their meager portions of stew, Connor and Chloe retreated to a bed near the far end of the room. Hank wondered briefly if they wouldn’t freeze over there but that same cynical voice from before reminded him of the fact that they had each other to keep themselves warm throughout the night. With a deep sigh, Hank spread himself out in front of the fireplace, using his coat as a cover and staring into the flames as they continued dancing for a while longer.  
  
It was curious, he thought before he fell asleep, how he hardly ever had concrete memories of his past lives but still somehow always felt drawn back to Connor. He contemplated, not for the first time, what cosmic string connected them and wondered if he would ever get an answer to that question. As he thought about it, he slowly drifted off and dreamt of himself and Connor, kissing each other under the burning sun of some faraway country in an age long ago.


	12. Children of war - part 1

At some point in the middle of the night, Hank woke up. The fire had gone out by then and it was terribly cold in the small house. Hank pulled his coat tighter around himself and curled in on himself but it hardly did anything to warm him. As he lay there, shivering on the floor in front of a fireplace and wondered if he should get another fire going, he suddenly heard soft steps behind him.   
  
Hank turned around but couldn’t make out much in the darkness of the room. Only when his eyes finally adjusted to the lack of light was he able to make out a dark figure approaching him. For a terrifying second or two, he was about to draw the dagger he always carried on his body to be able to defend himself out in the wilderness. Then he remembered, where he was and stopped himself with bated breath.  
  
The form came closer and when it knelt down next to him, he could see that it was Connor. He was carrying a woolen blanket that smelt of horses, even from a distance. Without a word, he sat down next to Hank, spread the blanket over them and then laid down. His chest was pressed to Hank’s back, his chin resting against his shoulder and a tentative hand was laid down on Hank’s arm. Hank had no idea what was happening but it made his heart hammer in his chest in a way that made him worry that it would just fall out of his chest within the next few moments.  
  
“I missed you”, Connor said into the silence between them. It was not a whisper but he kept his voice down enough so Chloe hopefully wouldn’t hear. Hank’s hand flew to Connor’s on his arm within an instant and squeezed it tightly.  
  
“I missed you too”, he replied and it was true. It wasn’t like they couldn’t live happy lives without the other in it but something always seemed to be lacking. Something was always gnawing away at them in their subconscious, even when they didn’t really remember each other until they finally met and everything clicked into place. As it turned out, that didn’t mean eternal happiness for them, though.  
  
“I love Chloe too”, Connor continued, voice muffled against Hank’s shoulder, “I have seen how you looked at me all night but I cannot be with you in this life, Hank.” It sounded like Connor was going to apologize next but all he did was draw a shuddering breath and sigh against Hank’s back.  
  
“I would not ask you to”, Hank said truthfully, his thumb caressing the back of Connor’s hand, “I was too late this time but we will meet again and then we’ll be together again. But for now, you have Chloe and your child to take care of.”   
  
“I really hope we will meet again soon”, Connor whispered. Then Hank felt the soft press of lips against his shoulder and suddenly he was feeling hot and cold all over again. Slowly, he turned his head to look at Connor. The young man chose that moment to look up at him in turn and when their eyes met, both of them simultaneously leaned into each other until their lips met in a kiss.  
  
It was a short, chaste affair, barely more than a press of lips against each other. But it carried so much longing and sadness that it took their breath away all the same. They looked at each other for a few moments afterward, before Hank turned back around and Connor buried his face against Hank’s back again.  
  
The two men laid in silence for a while after their kiss. Neither of them knew what to say and neither of them wanted to, either. It would have only ruined this thing between them. So they stayed close to each other, breathing the other in, hearts beating in the same rhythm. Their longing and loneliness and fear hung between them and they didn’t need words to understand each other. It was the magic of them. They would always understand each other, even without words.  
  
Finally, Hank dozed off again with the warmth of Connor’s lithe body against his back and prayed that morning would never come.   
  
  
But of course, morning came. When Hank woke up a pale sun was only slightly lighting up the room and he was bitterly cold again. Connor must have left at some point in his sleep because Hank was alone underneath the blanket. It hurt but he knew that Connor had had no other choice. If Chloe found them like this, entangled on the floor underneath an old blanket, they would have had to find a way to explain it to her and there was just no way they could.  
  
Hank got up not long after, folded the blanket and placed it on the nearby table they had eaten dinner at. Then he sat down in one of the chairs next to it and waited for Connor and Chloe to wake up.  
  
When they did, he announced he was going to head out again. Hank thanked them a thousand times and more for letting him stay the night and sharing their food with him. It truly was more than he could hope for in most other places and he was beyond grateful. Connor sent him a long look that could mean god knows what but Hank interpreted it as ‘take care of yourself out there’ and the way Connor worried about him – however, imagined it might be – warmed him deep down.   
  
Chloe hurried off to some distant part of the room and came back with some potatoes, a little bread, and some other vegetables.  
  
“It isn’t much but this is all we can give you”, she said as she urged Hank to accept the food. Her kindness warmed Hank’s core even more. They barely even knew each other and she had agreed to give him shelter, fed him and made sure that he wouldn’t have to starve out on his own for a day or two. As guilty as Hank suddenly felt for kissing her husband, he promised himself he would always remember her, engrave her into his memory and keep her alive there for centuries to come.  
  
“You have already given me far more than I could ever repay you for”, Hank said truthfully and Chloe smiled shyly, “I wish all three of you only the best. I really hope the winter and this war will end soon, so you can raise your child in more beautiful times.”  
  
Then he bid them both farewell and headed out. It wasn’t as cold as it had been in the past few days. A pale winter sun stood proudly in the sky and fought valiantly to keep some of the cold from reaching them. Everything looked a lot more promising and friendly than it had the night before and it managed to lift Hank’s spirits some.   
  
When he had walked a good distance from the small farmhouse, he turned back around to it. The door was closed and it seemed like Connor and Chloe had gone back to their life already but Hank could feel Connor’s gaze on him even if he could not see him. He smiled to himself and carried on his way.   
  
  
  
Many months later, Hank returned. He hadn’t planned to, honestly, but the war was finally over and that little farmhouse nestled away between snowy hills drew him back in like a siren’s call. If Hank was honest, he had no idea how he even found it again. The last time he had stumbled upon it entirely on accident. He hadn’t even known what country he had been in and what region within that country. During part of his journey he was convinced he would never find Connor or his little farm ever again but finally, he made it.  
  
And what he saw made his heart shatter into a million pieces in his chest.  
  
It was spring by now so he could see the way the soil around the house had been devastated. Whoever had been here had really wanted to destroy everything Connor and his family-owned and make sure they wouldn’t even be able to grow new crops to feed themselves. But a sickening feeling in his gut told Hank that was the least of Connor’s and Chloe’s concerns.   
  
The farmhouse had been burned to the ground. Most of the wooden structures had collapsed in on themselves, leaving nothing standing but the stones of the chimney and one or two thick, wooden pillars that had turned black from the fire. Hank could see right through what used to be a house and into the small forest behind it. There was barely anything left of it.   
  
As Hank came closer, he could guess what some of the piles of rubble and burned-down wood might once have been. The big pile of wood and ashes Hank could see had probably been the bed, closer to the fireplace he identified the table he had sat at all these months ago. The destruction was terrible. This had been Connor’s home and his livelihood and it all had been destroyed by robbers or soldiers or mercenaries, who got bored. The sight of it made Hank sick with rage.   
  
But what made his stomach twist, even more, was worry about the inhabitants of what used to be a charming little farmhouse. If he was honest with himself, Hank knew that there was hardly any chance of them surviving this and if they did he wouldn’t find them here. But that would at least calm him down somewhat. He could go on to live his life without seeing Connor if he knew he was alive and well in some other part of the world. But it did not seem like destiny would grant him that curtesy.   
  
Slowly, he walked closer to the house, his feet growing heavier with every step. More than once he stopped in his tracks completely, ready to turn around and never find out what happened to Connor and Chloe and their child. But then Hank told himself that he would never sleep a night in his life again if he didn’t find out the truth, however painful it might be. And then he continued walking towards the house, stepped over what was left of a wall to get inside.  
  
And then he saw them.  
  
All three of them were huddled together in a corner of the room near the fireplace. There was hardly anything left of Connor, Chloe, and their child but charred skeletons and a few patches of skin and fabric that had burned themselves into their bones. They had been burned alive in their own home. Whoever lit the fire, they weren’t even after anything in it. They had only been a vengeful soul, content to take the life of those, who couldn’t defend themselves.  
  
Hank had seen men die horribly in battle and yet the sight of the three corpses in front of him was the first time he threw up from seeing a dead person. The sight was just too heartbreaking to take. Chloe had the small child pressed tightly to her chest to shield it from what was to come. Connor cowered next to her, arms wrapped around her as if to protect her from the all-consuming flames. The sight made Hank’s heart shatter all over again and suddenly he found himself on the ground in front of them, sobbing into his hands.  
  
He had no idea how long he cried. There was something so colossally unfair about him being allowed to keep on living while this young family had their lives end before they had ever experienced the true beauty of it. All three of them had been born during a war that had been going on for far too long. It would have been only right to allow them to live the rest of their lives in peace and harmony and the fact that it would never be like that made Hank want to tear his hair out.   
  
It took Hank quite a while to calm down again. Anger and pain coursed through his chest in equal measure and even when he finally stopped crying, he doubted he was strong enough to get back on his feet. He looked at the charred remains of three people in front of him and wished he could give them a proper burial. But he was afraid their fragile bones would crumble to dust the moment he moved them. Besides, there was no way he could separate them from one another and carrying all three in one big bundle was outright impossible.  
  
So, with a heavy heart, Hank decided to leave them where they were. It almost hurt more than thinking about their untimely deaths in but he told himself there was nothing he could have done to prevent it and there was nothing he could do now either. It didn’t make him feel any better but at least it granted him enough strength to get back to his feet. He cast one last, long look at the young family before turning around and leaving the house.   
  
It was a horrible feeling of déja vu Hank experienced as he walked away from the farmhouse yet again. Last time, he had felt uplifted and hopeful, wishing to return one day and see how Connor and Chloe had prospered. Today, Hank felt hollow and numb. He had lost Connor before, he knew that. The ache in his chest was too familiar for this to have never happened before. But it still felt fresh and new and he could already sense that it would stay like that for a while.  
  
Hank turned back towards the remains of the small house one last time. This time there was no Connor watching him from somewhere he couldn’t see and Hank felt like he had been stabbed in the chest. He would mourn Connor for the rest of his life and all he could do was hope that the next one would treat both of them more kindly. 


	13. Two roses in a garden - part 1

„Oh my, I must have gotten lost”, a voice said behind Hank and the person it belonged to didn’t sound worried or apologetic in the slightest.   
  
Hank still raised a brow and turned around. And suddenly, it felt like the breath had been punched out of him.  
  
In front of him stood a young nobleman, his coat, vest and pants a beautiful dark blue that made his pale skin stand out and brown eyes shine brightly. His hair was curly and reached past his shoulders as was the latest fashion and his lips were curled up in a teasing smile. A smile that Hank would recognize among millions.   
  
As always, he only met Connor when he was already past his prime and the young man in the middle of his. It was quite unfair, Hank sometimes thought, but Connor didn’t seem to mind if the look of pure awe in his eyes as he let them roam over Hank was anything to go by. The sudden attention made Hank feel like a giddy young man again and it was insane how someone he had only just met could make him feel like this. But, as far as he remembered, that had been how it always was with Connor. They would meet and immediately fall for each other in one way or another.   
  
“Well, I suggest you turn around and follow the path from this greenhouse back to the fountain in the center of the gardens. It is very hard to miss”, Hank said, teasingly, replying to Connor’s obvious excuse to visiting him in here. He wondered how the young man had found out he even lived here. Maybe he had seen Hank on a stroll through the vast gardens of Versailles. As one of the many gardeners, Hank could often be seen tending to hedges and trees and flowers, while walking through the gardens to enjoy the weather or exchange gossip was the favorite pastime at court these days.   
  
Hank turned back towards his work and watched Connor’s face fall from the corner of his eyes as he did so. He tried not to laugh too hard and give himself away, while he acted like he was busy with whatever equipment was spread out on the table in front of him.   
  
“Oh, but I feel like I rather like it here”, Connor announced cheerfully, his bravado returned, “The company is quite exquisite.”   
  
“Now, who did you upset in the salons to resort to coming to one of the gardeners for company?”, Hank wanted to know, chuckling to himself, “Isn’t there anyone more…suitable for a young noble like yourself to spend his time with?” 

It was only part joke this time. Connor probably came from an influential family with wealth and lands somewhere in France. He was surely supposed to marry some equally influential young lady to join their families, fortunes, and lands and have a litter of children with her to secure his lineage. Surely, the king’s own brother was proof enough that these things did not always go as their families had planned but Hank doubted very much that just because the royal family let it slide other families would do the same. 

Connor didn’t seem too concerned by such matters, though.  
  
“I upset no one, obviously”, he said with a cheeky smile, “I merely want to spend my time with someone, who seems more entertaining than the gossiping bunch that occupies the tables at the salons.”   
  
“I am not sure you will find this person here”, Hank commented, busying himself with whatever gardening tools lay in front of him to seem busy. He didn’t really want Connor to leave but letting him stay would only end in trouble and heartache for both of them in the long run. Hank had only found Connor again some minutes ago and already the thought of the young noble getting married and having children with someone else one day hurt more than he would like to admit to himself. As much as he wanted to be with Connor, it might just be better to keep his distance. Not that Hank considered himself a good choice for the young man either way.   
  
Nevertheless, if he wanted to get back to his work, he would have to face Connor sooner or later.

When Hank turned around he found himself face to face with the young man again. He heaved a sigh and raised a brow. In the past centuries, he had met Connor often enough to have a vague feeling that he would not be deterred from his goal quite so easily.   
  
“I heard the king demands you plant the most beautiful roses”, Connor said, smiling brightly as he tried to dance around Hank and see what he was occupied with, “You know, my mother…”  
  
“Is the one, who cultivated this particular strain. Trust me, I know”, Hank replied, watching the smile wane on Connor’s face for a moment, before it returned with a vengeance.  
  
“And what do you think of it?”, the young man wanted to know, finally finding a way to weasel around Hank and get to the rose bushes that were still potted in tubs until they were ready to be planted in the vast gardens of Versailles.   
  
“The roses or your mother?”, Hank replied jokingly and earned himself a roll of Connor’s beautiful, brown eyes.  
  
“The roses, of course”, he answered nonetheless, “I know what my mother is like. Beautiful and fierce but determined and scary at the same time.”  
  
“The same can be said about her roses”, Hank retorted with a smile of his own now and Connor let out a snorted laugh that would not have been suited for the company of nobles in the salons of the castle. The two men smiled at each other for a while longer, before Hank decided to return to his work.   
  
He grabbed a young tree and walked past Connor to carry it out of the greenhouse and towards its designated spot. The plans the king had made for his gardens were very specific and straying from them even by just a few centimeters could result in punishment. But Hank was good at what he did and had memorized the section of the plan he was working on by heart. He had already dug a hole and was going to plant the tree exactly, where the king wanted it. And it would grow tall and proud, for all the dwellers in the gardens to enjoy.  
  
As Hank walked through the vast gardens, he heard steps following him and without having to turn around, he knew that Connor was right behind him. He couldn’t suppress a chuckle at that. The young man followed him along like one of the perfumed poodles that were the latest craze among the noble ladies from the salons. It was bewildering but charming at the same time. They had always been drawn together but seeing Connor fall for him so easily yet again made Hank feel warm and soft in his chest.  
  
Eventually, they reached the hole Hank had dug earlier and he set about planting the tree. Hank set it down carefully, holding it perfectly upright with one hand and shoveling earth into the hole with the other. Then he let go of the tree and gently patted the soil around it until the tree was set firm and snug. Finally, he grabbed a watering pot he had left by the hole earlier and watered the young tree. Rubbing the dirt from his hands onto his pants, Hank got to his feet and admired his handiwork.  
  
When he turned towards Connor again, the young man had a beautiful pink flush on his cheeks, his eyes were glazed over and there was an otherworldly look in them. It made Hank feel warm all over and if they weren’t within too close a distance of the usual routes the nobles sauntered along, he would pull the young man into his arms right this instant.  
  
“What is it?”, Hank asked, smiling at the sight of Connor shaking his head to free himself from whatever thoughts he had been having.

“I merely forgot how gentle you are”, he replied and suddenly it was Hank’s turn to blush.

“Some beings on this earth only thrive under the gentlest of touches”, he said, not really paying attention to what he was saying. Hank had promised himself to keep up his guard and not let Connor get too close but, suddenly, standing in front of him like this without touching him felt almost unbearable. There was a wicked glint in Connor’s eyes as he looked up at Hank and the gardener could not get enough of seeing it.  
  
“I don’t remember much about our past lives but I am sure you were always gentle with me”, Connor sighed, voice barely above a whisper, “And you will be gentle with me again, won’t you?”   
  
Hank didn’t know what to say to that but fortunately, he wasn’t expected to say anything anyway it seemed. Connor took a step forward into Hank’s personal space and, after making sure no one could see them, pressed his lips to Hank’s. And just like that all of Hank’s worries as well as his good intentions melted like ice on a hot summer’s day. Connor’s lips were soft against his and he could smell the young man’s sweet perfume. It was intoxicating and Hank knew at that moment that, no matter how dangerous it would be, he never wanted to be without Connor by his side ever again.  
  
“This will have to stay our secret”, Hank said the moment their kiss ended. Connor’s eyes were still slightly glazed over but he nodded before a frown spread across his forehead.

“It is a damn shame I cannot parade you around the ballrooms of Versailles the way you deserve but if keeping our love a secret is what will keep both of us safe, I guess I have no other choice”, he agreed, sighing a little. Hank felt adoration bloom somewhere deep in his chest. The idea of Connor wanting to show him off in front of all the other nobles was almost laughable but the honesty with which he had said it made Hank feel more loved than he ever had. Hank had never thought much of himself but to hear Connor talk about him like someone worthy of being shown off warmed him to the core.   
  
“You could always parade me around the greenhouse”, Hank suggested for lack of anything better to say.  
  
“I could but I wouldn’t want the roses in there to wither from jealousy because they can never be as beautiful as you”, Connor replied easily and Hank let out a disbelieving laugh.   
  
“I am not beautiful, you are”, he told Connor and tentatively reached out to take the young man’s hand in his. It was true, Hank thought. Connor was stunning and smart and deserved someone far better than Hank by his side. But instead of the voice that had told Hank to leave Connor alone earlier, something possessive reared its head now, something that wanted Hank to have Connor all to himself. Sometimes it scared Hank how easily and desperately they would fall for each other time and time again but he figured it had to be how things were if a soul was torn apart and reunited across the centuries again and again.

“To me, you are beautiful”, Connor said, tearing Hank out of his thoughts and leaning into him for another kiss. It was just as sweet as the first and Hank wondered how he could have ever even thought about pushing Connor away and missing out on this. 

Sure, it would be dangerous to be together like this and chances were high that Connor would still be forced to marry someone at some point down the line. But when they broke their kiss and Connor looked into Hank’s eyes, his own brown orbs filled with such intense feeling, Hank knew that no matter what would happen, Connor would only ever love him and that made every risk worth it. 


	14. Two roses in a garden - part 2

The months passed and spring turned into summer. The flowers in the gardens over Versailles were in full bloom and the palace itself glowed in ever more splendor. Then, autumn came and brought with it storm and the time of harvest. Nobles could be seen straying off the paths and plucking apples right from the trees, laughing and enjoying themselves. When winter came around, many plants lost their leaves and color but it didn’t make the gardens any less impressive. And it didn’t mean less work for Hank either.  
  
But he didn’t mind. He had chosen the profession of a gardener because he loved working in nature. Even if it meant being outside in all kinds of weather, getting himself dirty and sometimes injured. Hank took pride in seeing his work come to fruition in the form of blooming flowers and trees throughout the year. And if that entailed that he would have to walk the vast grounds in the cold of winter, cut back branches and twigs and make sure none of the precious plants froze to death, so be it.   
  
Besides, Hank had excellent company that made every bit of hard work much easier to bear. Ever since they had first met in spring and begun a secret affair, Connor could be seen in the gardens of Versailles even more often than the other nobles. Sometimes he would be with someone and chat with them instead of Hank. But most times he came to the gardens alone, specifically seeking out Hank in his greenhouse or outside tending to the plants.   
  
They would talk about all sorts of things. Hank would teach Connor about the flower or tree or shrub he was currently working on and Connor, in turn, would tell Hank about the goings-on inside the palace. More often than not, Hank felt like he was the most politically informed gardener in all of France, while Connor reported that many of the nobles delighted in the knowledge Connor had about all sorts of plants that he had gathered in his conversations with Hank.   
  
Even if they had to meet in secret, making sure they were out of sight and earshot of any of the nobles in the gardens, there was a certain distinct domesticity to their relationship and their meetings that both men enjoyed thoroughly. As seemed to be the case far too often for them, the world was against them but they had carved themselves a small niche for themselves in it, somewhere, where no one could hurt them.   
  


  
The day Connor came bearing bad news was a cold one in the middle of the winter. Hank was making his rounds through the gardens, checking for any damage to the plants. Sometimes he wondered what the king had been thinking, bringing some of the flowers to a country that could get so cold but then again, who was he to doubt the judgment of someone chosen by God himself? He was only a gardener after all.  
  
Hank heard Connor before he saw him. His hurried steps made a crunching sound in the snow as he approached Hank. The gardener turned and smiled at his young lover and Connor smiled back but it didn’t reach his eyes. Hank could tell that he was trying to be optimistic and just couldn’t. So, after quickly checking that they were alone in the gardens, he embraced Connor and pressed a comforting kiss to his forehead.  
  
“What is it, love?”, he asked, after they parted and continued their walk through the gardens together. Connor stiffened next to him and Hank felt that he had trouble putting what bothered him into words.

“I am to be married in summer”, he said finally and Hank’s heart stopped for several moments. He had always known that this day would come. Connor was far too old to be unmarried and he had mentioned on several occasions how his mother had talked about finding a suitable wife for him. She had finally succeeded, it seemed. Hank tried very hard to hide his worry and disappointment and sound optimistic.  
  
“Congratulations, love”, he said, taking one of Connor’s hands in his and squeezing it tightly, “I hope your wife is at least as lovely as you and you treat each other well.”  
  
“She is wonderful”, Connor admitted, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, “You have seen her. The blond dame, who wore these beautiful violet dresses all summer long. Her name is Chloe.”   
  
Hank thought hard and actually remembered the young woman Connor was talking about. They had spent many days out in the gardens together in summer. Chloe was a beautiful woman and a joy to talk to it seemed. She had made Connor laugh a lot, whenever they were together. For a bit, Hank had been quite jealous of her but always reminded himself that he would never be the only person Connor would be together with. Not in this life, at least. And now Connor was supposed to marry that woman and Hank was caught between sadness and genuine happiness.  
  
“Then I am sure she will be a good wife”, Hank assured Connor, who sighed deeply, nodded and then stopped in his tracks. He turned to look at Hank and took both his hands in his.  
  
“But I don’t love her”, Connor said quietly, looking first at their hands and then back up into Hank’s eyes, “You’re the only one in this world I love and will ever love.”  
  
Hank’s heart grew so big that it threatened to burst out of his chest. He laughed into the cold winter air, then leaned down and kissed Connor gently and deeply. Of course, he knew somewhere deep down that Connor loved him. The way they acted around and interacted with each other spoke volumes of their feelings. But up until now the young noble had never confessed his feelings out loud to Hank. And to hear them out in the open air like this, in a moment of uncertainty and worry for the future, was more than Hank could have ever asked for.   
  
“I love you too, Connor”, he whispered back, pressing his forehead to Connor’s when their kiss broke. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted from Hank’s shoulders and he didn’t have to worry about losing Connor anymore. Even if Connor would marry Chloe, he would never truly be hers because his heart would always belong to Hank. That was all the reassurance the gardener needed to see everything in a different light.

“What will we do when I get married?”, Connor asked, “I can’t possibly leave the castle and be with you as often as I do now.”  
  
“Even if you only come visit me once a year that will be enough for me”, Hank assured the young man, caressing his cheek gently, “I can still watch you and your beautiful wife in the gardens. Maybe you can both visit me every now and again. You could introduce me to her as a friend. Maybe she won’t notice…”  
  
“Maybe…”, Connor agreed, not seeming entirely convinced, “I will miss you, though. Even if I know you are never far away, I will miss you.”   
  
“I will miss you too”, Hank said truthfully, “But we will find a way to make this work. We have figured something out until now. I doubt a wife can truly stop us.” 

Connor actually laughed at that and some of the tension in his shoulders dissolved. Hank could see that the young man still wasn’t completely convinced that this thing between them could work out even after he got married but by now Hank was hellbent on showing him that they would find a way together.  
  
“Come on, we should make the best of the time we still have left before you marry Chloe”, Hank suggested and took hold of Connor’s hand. The young man smiled softly and followed Hank as they spent the whole afternoon strolling and chatting in the gardens. By the time Connor said his goodbyes to Hank, returning to the castle, he looked far more optimistic than he had mere hours before.  


  
In the weeks and months to come, they made good use of their agreement to see each other as often as they could as long as Connor wasn’t married yet. Still, he sometimes brought Chloe with him and she and Hank got along formidably. Sometimes, Hank found himself thinking that if he couldn’t marry Connor, Chloe would be the only one he would want to be in his stead. And that thought calmed him on nights when darkness reigned in his dreams and doubts gnawed at him.  
  
Summer came around far too quickly and Connor went and married Chloe. It was a beautiful affair, from what Hank heard and even though there was still a bit of residue doubt and sadness in his heart, he saw how happy Connor was around both him and Chloe and it made everything easier to bear. On the day of their wedding, Hank planted a bush of red roses in a far-off part of the gardens and, in secret, dedicated it to the newlyweds.   
  
Against all doubt, his relationship with Connor persisted. As they had feared, they saw each other far less often and at first, it hurt. But the time they did spend together was so precious that it outweighed the dark times of longing. Besides, Hank could watch Connor and his wife from afar, see them walking through the gardens next to each other and laughing at something particularly thoughtful the other had said and obviously enjoying each other’s company. 


	15. Free 'til we die - part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **TW/CW:** Death/Execution

Hank leaned in the doorway of his shop and watched the people pass by on the streets. It was a relatively calm summer day but the growing unrest within the population could be felt in the air. The taxes had risen yet again and for many, it was hard to afford even a loaf of bread, let alone anything that offered a little more sustenance than that. Especially those, who lived from hand to mouth at the best of times suffered from the high taxes and prices. The number of beggars in the streets of Paris was growing each day and the sight of people dying in the streets was not an uncommon one anymore. Those, who didn’t die of starvation or sickness often ended up being killed over the few sous they still owned or shot by royal guards if they dared as much as to address a curse at the king in the privacy of their own home.   
  
Shaking his head, Hank returned to the inside of his shop. He was luckier than most. As a printer often paid to print new announcements from the palace he was never short on work. Almost every day now, new notices were demanded and spread in all of Paris or read in public places. Hank had a feeling that things would go sour soon and he did not look forward to being caught in the middle of it just because his store was in the middle of the country’s capital.   
  
Almost everyone knew that the days of the king were numbered. The people’s anger grew stronger and more violent every day and no matter how many royal guards Louis would send to Paris, they couldn’t shoot every last citizen in town. There was talk of something new on the horizon, a land without a king, where the people governed themselves. But the king covered his ears and eyes and looked another way while his people suffered, and many began plotting against him.   
  
Hank was not sure what was going to happen but it would be something big, that he was sure of. He didn’t care much either way. Sure, the way the king treated his people, letting them starve in the streets while the nobles gorged themselves at his feasts was painful to see. But all his life Hank had lived in a world, where a king existed and he couldn’t imagine how a country would work if it was governed by its people. Maybe he was just too old for such experiments.  
  
A smile spread across his face as he thought of Connor and how the young man would frown at him for thinking that way. Hank had first met Connor several months back. He had come into his print shop, asked all kinds of weird questions and then left. To say that Hank had been bewildered by the young brunet would have been an understatement. But a few days later, in the middle of the night, Connor had returned and asked Hank to print something for him. 

That something had turned out to be leaflets rallying the people of Paris against their king. Connor had told Hank that after their little talk, he and his companions had determined that Hank might not be convinced by their cause but seemed a loyal enough man to print something for them and not hand them over to the king’s men. And despite his confusion, Hank had agreed. Later, he didn’t know anymore why he had done it, whether it had been due to the person he was or because he knew Connor from a previous life and wanted to help him. Whatever it was, Hank had decided to help the young man and that was what he had done ever since.  
  
Sometimes Hank wondered if he wasn’t completely mad to put his own life at risk for someone he barely knew. But then he reminded himself that this wasn’t true. He knew Connor, had known him for many centuries now. It was just that this version of him was different yet similar to the man Hank had met before. Sure, Connor had always been a kind and just man, doing his best to help where he could. But this reincarnation was downright reckless and burning with the desire to bring change for the many.   
  
Maybe Hank was just jealous, he told himself. Usually, Connor would burn for him rather than for some cause that Hank neither understood nor cared for really. But he wasn’t about to voice such thoughts to Connor. It might upset him and make him take his revolutionary business elsewhere and that was the last thing Hank wanted. Even if Connor’s eyes weren’t exclusively on him, the fact that he helped him with his cause meant that he still got to see the young man fairly regularly to be delivered commissions or hand Connor the finished leaflets in some back alley in the middle of the night.   
  
Sometimes Connor would come just to chat with him too. He said that it was to seem less suspicious but deep down Hank felt that Connor enjoyed spending time with him as much as Hank did. It wasn’t much but maybe that was how their relationship was to be at this time. Hank didn’t always remember much of his past lives with Connor but he was sure there had been other cycles, where they didn’t live happily together either and the thought of being with Connor again in his next life comforted Hank when he felt particularly upset about the lack of closeness between them.   


  
A knock on the door dragged Hank away from his reverie and when he turned to see who was entering, he smiled brightly at the sight of Connor. The young man seemed even more agitated today than he had been the past few months or weeks even. Hank was not sure if this was a good or bad thing. But Connor was smiling excitedly. 

“Good morning, Connor”, Hank said, raising a brow, “Did something good happen?”

“Not yet”, Connor replied cheerfully, “But I am sure it will soon. And I think you should be with us when it happens.” The young man looked so beside himself with excitement that it was hard for Hank not to simply agree with whatever the young man was talking about. But at the last second, his common sense held him back.  
  
“What do you mean by that?”, he asked instead, then lowered his voice, “Are you and your friends planning anything big?”  
  
“We have been planning for months”, Connor informed him, “Now we are waiting for our dreams to come to fruition. And we feel like that is going to happen soon.”  
  
“And what makes you so sure?”, Hank wanted to know, crossing his arms in front of his chest and looking at Connor expectantly. 

“Do you not feel it?!”, Connor answered, spreading his arms and gesturing around them, “The people are getting more and more angry with each passing day. It cannot be long until they rise up as one and then our time will come.”  
  
Hank nodded along to what Connor was saying but he was not convinced by his words. It sounded too much like something the leader of Connor’s little revolutionary group, Markus, would say. Hank had only met Markus once and while he didn’t dislike him per se, he was sure that the young man had lost his grip on reality. He had talked about the fall of the king and the utopian world the revolutionaries would build after that happened so loudly that Hank had hissed at him, asking if he wanted to get them all killed. But Markus had merely replied that he was certain no harm would come to him or his friends until he had fulfilled his mission. And, as it seemed, he had been right so far.  
  
“Hank?”, Connor asked again, his voice dragging Hank out of his thoughts, “You helped us so much these past months. Will you come to be with us and walk into a brighter future together?” Connor’s eyes were shining brighter than Hank had ever seen them and it was incredibly hard not to say ‘yes’ and follow Connor into whatever adventure he and his friends had planned. But Hank had to stay realistic.

“What makes you so sure it is going to work out now?”, Hank wanted to know and Connor’s smile only faltered the tiniest bit, “The people have been upset with the king before and never has it changed anything. Why now?”  
  
“I just know”, Connor insisted, running his hand through his hair as he tried to make Hank understand, “It just feels so very different this time around. Sure, the people have been angry before but now, for the first time, it feels like they are actually willing to rise up and make a change.” He sounded so convinced that Hank wanted to be too. But it all just sounded too unreal.  
  
“And what if you are wrong?” he asked, “What if you and your friends call for change and the masses do not follow you and you end up being shot by the royal guard?”  
  
“Then we will have sacrificed our lives for freedom and for our country and it will be an honor to die”, Connor said, looking at Hank defiantly, obviously getting ready to argue. But Hank was in no mood for a fight. He simply shook his head and sighed.   
  
“I am sorry, Connor”, he said and looked down at his hands, “I know this is important to you but I cannot just follow you blindly into something like this. I…I just do not believe it is going to work out the way you think it will and I am too old to be caught up in something like this.  
  
Silence fell between them. For a while, Hank wasn’t sure if Connor was going to pick a fight or simply leave the house. When he finally dared lift his head and look at the man again, Connor seemed deep in thought. There was no anger or disappointment on his face but he was obviously contemplating something.   
  
“I understand”, he sighed after a moment and smiled at Hank. This time, it didn’t reach his eyes though and that hurt more than if he had walked out. Hank suddenly felt as if he had lost something very dear to him and he had no idea how to get it back. There was no way he could get into the revolutionary business but if staying away from it meant he would lose Connor, Hank wasn’t sure he could handle it.  
  
“Can I still ask a favor of you?”, Connor wanted to know and Hank was nodding before he even made a conscious decision to do so.   
  
“Anything you want”, he told Connor and when the young man smiled this time around it was just as bright and all-consuming as it had been earlier.  
  
“If you are right and things do not work out”, Connor began, grimacing at the thought of it, “Can I come to your house and hide until I can find a way to leave the country?”  
  
Hank thought about it for a moment. The mere idea of Connor getting injured or hurt in pursuit of his dreams was almost more than he could bear. But Hank didn’t want to leave him alone. He wanted to support Connor in whichever way he could and if he couldn’t do it by joining the revolution, he could at least offer him a safe haven should things go sour.  
  
“Of course”, he promised and suddenly Connor pulled Hank against his chest.  
  
“I knew you were a true friend”, he whispered into Hank’s ear and Hank could hear the excitement in his voice. They hugged for a while longer before Connor let go of him.  
  
“I have to go now”, he announced, “Markus has asked us all to meet at noon and I can’t be late.”

“You better hurry up then”, Hank said, clapping Connor on the shoulder as a farewell, “And take care.” 

Connor promised to look out for himself and then he left Hank’s shop. Hank looked after him until he lost sight of the brunet in the masses of people out on the street. There was a growing unease in Hank’s belly and he wished he could have held Connor back. Now, all he could do was wait and hope for him to return.


	16. Free 'til we die - part 2

A few more days passed by without anything significant taking place around Hank. And suddenly everything happened all at once. Hank had heard about lootings throughout the city in the past days and assumed that people were now taking to robbing bakers to feed themselves. But apparently, he had been wrong.  
  
Sometime around the middle of the day, Hank heard sounds like thunder rumbling in the distance and dark clouds were starting to fill the sky above Paris. Thick, black smoke was curling slowly above the rooftops of houses, filling the air with biting heat. Working on something throughout the day, Hank didn’t see the smoke until the clamoring outside became so loud he felt like he just had to get outside and investigate what had happened.   
  
When he did, he was met with utter chaos in the streets. People were gathered in small groups, talking animatedly, while others carried their belongings away on their backs. There were women and children crying, men desperate to calm them down and assure them that they were safe. The distinct smell of burning wood bit inside Hank’s nose and he had to fight the urge to cover it. Instead, he stalked over to a group of young men standing at the mouth of the street and looking in the direction of where the smoke was coming from.   
  
“What happened?”, Hank asked, seeing the thick column of smoke spread out across the city. The loud, booming noises he had heard before were still audible somewhere in the distance. But since it was a beautiful day except for the smoke in the air, Hank now doubted that it was thunder like he had initially thought.  
  
“They are fighting at the Bastille”, one of the young men told him, “Thousands of people marched at it this morning, trying to free some of the prisoners and find some ammunition.”  
  
“The guards are trying to stop them”, another man said, “They are far better equipped. All those fools are going to die, for sure.”  
  
The men began bickering amongst themselves after that, debating back and forth about whether the attackers stood a chance against the guards or not. But Hank wasn’t paying attention anymore. Instead, he wondered if Connor was among the men fighting at the Bastille right now. He had spoken about something big happening soon. But would he and his friends do something so audacious? Hank had always assumed Markus would want to bring change about by peaceful means but maybe he had been wrong.   
  
Hank didn’t know what to think. Following an impulse, he hurried down the street, heading towards the Bastille and the fighting. But he had barely gotten a block or two away from his shop when he stopped himself again to think and focus. Running head-first into the battle and chaos that would surely await him was reckless and stupid. He had no weapons and next to no fighting experience. He could take on some drunkard in a fight but that was something entirely different from facing a fully armed royal guardsman. 

And even if Hank managed to find some type of weapon on the way and join the fighting, what good would it do him? Maybe he wouldn’t even find Connor among all the chaos and turmoil. It was entirely possible that Connor wasn’t even there or that something had already happened to him. Hank swallowed thickly at the thought but it reminded him of something else.  
  
Hadn’t he promised Connor a safe place to run to, should their uprising fail? What if Connor was already on the way to find Hank? What if he was injured and needed help and Hank was running heedlessly through Paris in an effort to find him? He just couldn’t let Connor down like that. Taking a deep breath, Hank turned on his heel and headed back to his shop.   
  
The next several hours were pure agony. Hank could barely sit still, thinking back and forth about whether he should have gone and looked for Connor after all or if he had done the right thing by staying put. Midday turned into afternoon and afternoon into the evening but the noises in the distance and the smoke wafting by outside never ceased. More than once Hank was tempted to leave his shop to go outside. Whether to go to the Bastille after all or simply hear what was said about the goings-on in the street, he wasn’t sure. But in the end, he always talked himself out of it and stayed in his shop before migrating upstairs to his small flat when night began to fall.  


  
  
It was almost midnight when a sharp knock on the door tore Hank out of fitful sleep. He blinked until he could somewhat make out his surroundings in the dark and then hurried to light the candle he always kept on his bedside table. Hank had no idea, who would be at his door at this hour of the night but he feared the worst. Maybe the royal guard had somehow caught wind of him printing revolutionary leaflets after all and were now coming to get him.  
  
“Who is it?”, Hank called out when there was a second knock on the door.  
  
“It’s me”, a small, broken voice replied. It took Hank a moment to realize it was Connor speaking and when he did he almost dropped the candle. Within seconds he was out of his bed and raced to the door to open it.   
  
The second the door was open wide enough, Connor stumbled into the room and collapsed on the ground.   
  
“God, what happened to you?!”, Hank wanted to know, trying to see if Connor was injured but what little light the candle gave off was barely enough.  
  
“Close the door”, Connor croaked out as he fought to get into a kneeling position. Hank obeyed, slamming the door shut before falling to his knees in front of Connor. Closer to him, Hank could see the dark patch on the side of his coat that seemed to grow bigger by the second. There was no mistaking the substance that oozed out of Connor for anything other than what it truly was: blood.   
  
“I was grazed by a bullet”, Connor muttered, voice strained and laced with pain, “We fought and we took the Bastille. The king will listen to us now, Markus said. But I was wounded and could not fight any longer. So I came here.”  
  
“Thank god you did”, Hank replied, wrapping one of his arms around Connor’s back and moving the other to grip the undersides of his knees and lift him up, “You could have died out there. Have you all lost your minds?!”  
  
Connor winced in pain as Hank carried him the few steps from the front door to his bed and gently put him down there. He went back for the candle and placed it on the bedside table again before shoving Connor’s coat and shirt aside to look at the wound.  
  
“You should have been there, Hank”, Connor said weakly, “The fight was glorious. And it will bring freedom to all of us.” 

“I am sure it will”, Hank muttered, realizing that Connor was quickly approaching delirium and deciding he had to tend to the young man’s wound as quickly as he could.   
  
First, he grabbed a bottle of whiskey from a nearby cabinet and forced Connor to drink some of it. Hank wasn’t sure it would actually numb the pain as much as he hoped but it was the only thing he could do. Next, he retrieved the bowl with water he used to clean himself in the morning and placed it on the bed next to Connor. The brunet kept mumbling nonsensically, drifting in and out of consciousness while Hank raced through his flat to find a somewhat clean rag.  
  
When he was finally successful, he knelt down on the bed next to Connor carefully, dipped the rag in water and began cleaning Connor’s wound. The young man hissed and bit at his lower lip until it bled but he didn’t scream. He did cry, though, silent tears streaming down his cheeks as his fingers clawed at the sheets on Hank’s bed to keep himself from succumbing to the pain completely. Hank kept whispering encouragement to him as he went, trying to be as careful as he could. Seeing Connor in pain like this was like a knife twisting in Hank’s heart. But it was the only way to make sure the wound in Connor’s side wouldn’t get infected and cause him grief in the long run. 

Finally, Hank was done cleaning the wound and retrieved another piece of cloth from a nearby dresser. He manhandled Connor through gently but firmly wrapping the cloth around his torso in an effort to dress the wound and stem the blood flow. By the time he was done, Connor was passed out in Hank’s arms and Hank carefully put him back down on the bed and covered him with a sheet. Throughout the night, he sat next to Connor, watching his chest rise and fall with even breaths. 

Hank kept looking at him anxiously, worrying at each second that the slight movement would stop and Connor would just die. Put Connor kept breathing and slowly but surely Hank calmed down a little. Having Connor this close and getting to watch him sleep was more than he would have ever dared ask for. Sure, if Hank had wished for it, he would have wished for different circumstances but those couldn’t be helped now. He was just glad that Connor was alive and with him now.   


  
The night wore on and Hank watched Connor sleep. As tired as he was himself, he caught himself wishing the morning would never come. But, of course, morning came and with it came two guardsmen barging in through Hank’s front door, pistols pointed at the two men on the bed.

“On your feet”, one of the guards barked, while he and his colleague stalked towards Hank and Connor.  
  
“What do you want from us?!”, Hank asked, getting onto his feet and trying to move Connor towards him, where he could protect him from the guardsmen.   
  
“Do not touch him!”, the other guard ordered, “This man was among those, who attacked the Bastille yesterday. He is a traitor and will be punished accordingly.”  
  
“And so will you”, the first guard added, “For offering someone like him shelter.”  
  
“You cannot do that!”, Hank exclaimed, trying yet again to get to Connor, who had opened his eyes by now but was still cowering on the bed. The guards had just told Hank that he would be shot for harboring a traitor and yet he only worried about Connor. Hank was old, had lived most of his life already. But Connor was still young, head full of foolish ideas. He did not deserve to die for what he believed in.   
  
“This is a mistake!”, Hank tried to argue as one of the guards grabbed Connor by the arm and dragged him out of the bed, “You must be confusing him with someone else!”  
  
“Why would anyone else, who looks like him, have an injury like this?”, the second guard asked haughtily, stabbing his finger into Connor’s side and making the young man cry out in pain. He doubled over, arms tightly wrapped around his torso.  
  
Before Hank could do anything, the first guard mercilessly dragged a stumbling Connor out of the room, while the second pointed his pistol at Hank and motioned for him to go the same way as Connor. Hank followed the young man, mind racing and trying to find a way to save him. But as he stepped outside and saw at least ten more guards as well as seemingly everyone living on this street gathered in a circle at the foot of the stairs that led to his flat, Hank quickly realized there was nothing he could do. He and Connor would die and there was no way of changing it.  
  
Hank wondered briefly if he could have done anything differently. Maybe he could have talked Connor out of his ideas of a France, reigned by its people instead of a king. Then Connor would have never gone to the Bastille with Markus and his friends. No one would have seen him and no guards would have found him sleeping peacefully in Hank’s bed only to drag him out of it and execute him.  
  
Hank didn’t get much further in his worried thoughts before he was callously pushed to kneel on the hard cobblestone of the streets. He kept his head high, looking defiantly at the guards and the people around them. If Hank was going to die, he could at least let people see that he regretted nothing and that he was not afraid. Which he really wasn’t. He had always imagined he would be terrified when death came for him but Hank was as calm as he had rarely been in his life. The only thing he worried about was Connor.  
  
The young man was slumped over next to him, whimpering in pain and with his arms still slung around his torso. The wound at his side must have opened again. Blood was streaming from it, staining Connor’s clothes. Hank wished desperately that he could take the young man into his arms and shield him from what was about to happen, take his place and die happily if only he knew that Connor would live on.  
  
As it was, all Hank could do was tear one of Connor’s hands away from his own body and take it firmly in his.  
  
“It will be over soon”, he said reassuringly, as he heard the guards cock their pistols behind him.  
  
At that moment, Connor turned towards Hank and the look he gave him was so full of gratitude and love it made Hank’s heart want to leap out of his chest. Hank heard pistols going off behind them and had just enough time to think about how lucky he was that Connor looking at him like this was the last thing he saw on this earth before his world faded to black.


	17. Could I ever love you like this? - part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **TW/CW:** Racism, References to slavery. If anything of what happens in these two chapters is offensive in any way or needs fixing, please let me know!

It was a beautiful, warm summer day in Michigan when Connor first met Hank in this cycle. At the time, Connor lived in a small village, where hardly anything ever happened. It was peaceful and quiet and Connor loved it. He had seen so many much harsher environments in his past lives that this was truly a beautiful change of pace. Connor had already been excited that after such a long time he was finally born in North America instead of Europe for a change. And to get to live in such a quaint little town felt like more of a blessing than he deserved but he would take it gladly.   
  
On the day he met Hank, Connor was busy in the marketplace, helping a friend of his setting up his table so he could present the fish he sold. There was even more of a buzz around the marketplace today than there usually was and it was because it was rumored vendors from the south were coming to offer their goods. It was always exciting to meet someone Connor hadn’t grown up with or known since childhood and so he was giddy with anticipation, hoping the rumors would prove to be true.

Around noon, when the market was in full swing, the first carts arrived. Given they were rather small, Connor suspected the vendors had set up camp nearby and now brought only their goods instead of all their belongings with them. It was a good idea since even in small towns theft was often a problem in the marketplace.   
  
Connor watched from the side of his friend's table as several men passed them and together they wondered what they were going to sell and if they had enough to afford it if it was anything worthwhile. But then Connor’s heart almost stopped dead in his chest when he saw a familiar face among those bringing their goods and setting up shop all around them. Before Connor could react, however, the man had walked right past him and the brunet was still too much in shock to even react.  
  
Luckily, Hank’s dog at least seemed to notice Connor. It was adorable, Connor thought sometimes, how many versions of Hank he had met and how many of them had dogs like this. This one was a large breed with dark fur and soft, brown eyes. Connor was enamored almost instantly and when the dog turned away from its owner to trot over to Connor and sniff at him, the brunet was over the moon. He loved dogs as it was and the fact that all of Hank’s dogs seemed to gravitate towards him made Connor happier than he could ever truly say.  
  
It took Hank a moment to realize his dog was gone, it seemed, but when he did, he stopped dead in his tracks, looked around and his face only softened again when he saw the dog with Connor. A moment later, he was by their side and watched Connor run his hands through the dog’s thick fur.  
  
“Of all the people I thought I might meet today”, Hank said with a wide smile on his face, “And you’re stealing Sumo from me again, I see. Just like the olden days.”  
  
“I am not stealing him!”, Connor protested with a laugh, “He just likes me. And I like him.” Sumo barked as if to agree and Connor scratched him behind the ears for his great support. Hank chuckled too and for a while neither of them said anything. It felt like a family that had been separated for a long time and was now coming back together. Hank and Connor were on the same wavelength immediately this time which hadn’t always been the case in the past but made everything much more enjoyable.  
  
“Listen, I really need to set up my things”, Hank said after some moments of companionable silence, “If you want to you can join me and tell me a bit about yourself, I would be happy to hear it. You’ve changed so much again.”  
  
Connor agreed readily. He told his friend, where he was going, and then joined Hank and Sumo as the older man got his stand ready for customers from their village. Connor sat on an empty box and petted Sumo, while he told Hank about his unspectacular childhood in the village and how he hoped that one day he would get to travel and see some of the other states.  
  
“Well, you could always come and visit me in Virginia”, Hank offered and Connor wasn’t sure if he actually meant it or said it to say something, “It’s nothing special but you would get to see something new and I would get to see you again.” 

“How long are you staying?”, Connor asked immediately, not without melancholy in his voice. Travel was hard in these times and he doubted that he could just one day leave the town to go and visit Hank many states away. If he even survived the journey, he wasn’t sure he would make it back – or want to go back.  
  
“I can only be here for today, Connor”, Hank sighed, “Our camp is not too far and we will be visiting some neighboring towns in the next few days but then we will return to Virginia.”  
  
Connor sighed deeply. He had expected something like this and yet it hurt. It was just their luck to find each other only to be torn apart again so soon. And sure, it wasn’t like either of them was going to die or there was no possibility at all of them ever meeting again. But such chances were slim and past experience taught Connor that destiny didn’t grant them lightly. It was infuriating to meet Hank and be separated from him so soon again and Connor tried not to show his disappointment but he was quite sure that Hank had seen it still.  
  
“We can always make the best of today”, Connor suggested, trying his hand at a smile and not sure if it succeeded or not. Hank nodded and gently placed a hand on Connor’s shoulder for a moment.   
  
“Of course we can”, he agreed, “I have business to attend to but you can stay by my side and we can talk. I haven’t told you anything about what I am doing yet and I am sure Sumo would be cross with you if you just left again right now.”  
  
That actually made Connor chuckle. The dog had sat down next to Connor a while ago and rested his big head in the brunet’s lap. Connor was pretty sure that Sumo was drooling on him but he didn’t mind. The dog loved him and the brunet loved running his fingers through his thick, soft fur.   
  
With Hank’s stand prepared, the first few interested villagers came flocking over almost immediately. For a long while, Hank and Connor had no chance to exchange more than a few words on the side. Both of them were much busier talking to Hank’s customers. The men and women kept asking Hank about where he was from and what kind of life he led back at home and so Connor learned that Hank lived in an equally small town in the south of Virginia. He was a blacksmith specialized in crafting nails and all kinds of other supplies for local carpenters and shopkeepers. Hank lived alone with Sumo after his engagement with a woman had ended sour many years ago.   
  
Connor listened intently and he was sure that anyone, who walked past them, saw how he looked at Hank as if he had hung the moon. The brunet knew that he should probably make himself less obvious but he just couldn’t. It had been so long since he and Hank had had a peaceful life, hell, even only one peaceful day together. Something like this didn’t seem to happen too much for their kind and Connor was overjoyed and trying to make the best of it any way he could.   
  
Still, time passed far too quickly for Connor’s liking and soon it was late in the afternoon and the vendors were beginning to pack away their merchandise again. Connor watched, almost pouting, as Hank began to gather his belongings and stowed everything in the boxes he had brought again.  
  
“I really wish you could stay longer”, Connor sighed and Hank turned to look at him. The brunet knew that the look of exhaustion and sadness on Hank’s face was mirrored on his own and he hated it.  
  
“I can’t make any promises to you”, Hank began, looked around and when he was sure that no one was looking their way took Connor’s hand in his for a moment, “But I will try everything I can to come back here next year. I already missed you before I even knew we would meet again in this life and now that I know you exist, even on the same continent as me but just out of reach, it will be unbearable.”   
  
“I could come with you”, Connor offered on a whim. He had wanted to suggest it all day but there had always been someone else around and he didn’t want people asking questions when he tried to talk about something private with Hank, “I am still young and not tied down here. I am not doing any work here that couldn’t be replaced if I left and I don’t have a wife or family to look after.”   
  
“You know that’s not possible, Connor”, Hank replied softly but firmly. Even before he said it, Connor had seen in his eyes that Hank would never let him leave his life behind just like that and follow him into the unknown.  
  
“What I earn from my work is barely enough to feed me and Sumo”, he continued, squeezing Connor’s hand in his, “Believe me, I would love to have you close to me at all times but at the moment, it just can’t happen.”   
  
Connor sighed and nodded. He wished Hank could embrace him right now, take the edge off his pain and promise that maybe in the future they could meet again and everything would be well then. Connor could see in Hank’s eyes that the older man wanted to do the same but with the hustle and bustle of the marketplace still going on around them, there was just no way they could do this here and now. With a sigh, Connor nodded.  
  
“Promise me we will meet again at least”, he begged. He knew he was asking too much even if it felt like he was asking for barely anything at all. But Connor knew just as well as Hank did that for them promises were difficult and almost always impossible to keep.

“I promise”, Hank said still, even though he, too, had to know how hard it would be to keep it, “Believe me, time will pass much quicker than you think and before you know it, I will be back.”

“And if you can’t make it?”, Connor asked. He wasn’t trying to sound as petulant as he probably did but the thought of never seeing Hank again after having only one day with him was almost more than he could bear to think about.  
  
“Life works in mysterious ways for us”, Hank sighed, “If I can’t come here with my colleagues again, I am sure it will find some other way to bring us back together.”   
  
Connor nodded curtly, not entirely convinced but knowing that it was the best they would get in this life. Hank squeezed his hand one last time and they exchanged an understanding look. Neither of them was happy with how things were going but they knew better than to try and change the way destiny had set for them. More often than not, this had only resulted in pain and heartbreak in the past.  
  
“Farewell, Connor”, Hank said and let go of Connor’s hand, “I can’t wait to finally meet you again soon.”   
  
“Me too”, Connor agreed with a small, sad smile, “Please stay safe until then.” 

Connor petted Sumo’s head one last time before Hank grabbed his cart and followed the other merchants back out of the village. The brunet watched until they vanished in the distance. Then, he returned to his home. Everything hurt and he already missed Hank. The only thing that kept him upright that night and through the following weeks and months was the hope that he and Hank would meet again. Fate was often cruel to them but this time Connor had a strong sense that it would actually be kind and reunite them at some point. He only had to be patient…


	18. Could I ever love you like this? - part 2

Just a few short years later, everything had changed. America was at war with itself. The skies seemed to be filled with the smoke from guns and cannons almost every day now and it was never as quiet and peaceful as the day Hank and Connor had met. 

Connor didn’t like to think about how this had all started. It was not pleasant to ponder on it. The fact that some of his countrymen would deny others the right to freedom based only on the color of their skin was incomprehensible to the young brunet. It seemed so ridiculous and nonsensical and yet it was a deadly reality. A reality that Connor was currently experiencing first-hand.

When the war broke out he had just been old enough to join the union army. He hadn’t particularly liked the idea of fighting against fellow Americans but if it was the only way to ensure everyone in this country got to live freely, he would do whatever was necessary. And as it appeared, it was necessary to march through murky moors and dark forests to execute a surprise attack on a confederate camp nearby. 

They had been at it since early this morning. Someone must have warned the enemy because the confederate soldiers were fighting back and managed to push the attack back into the forest, where everything turned into more of a type of guerilla warfare than two opposing units attacking each other in the open field as was usually done. It had the disadvantage that it was every man for himself but also the advantage that not one side fared much better than the other, as far as Connor could tell from his limited perspective anyway.

The young brunet was currently trudging through thick woodwork, trying to make out enemy soldiers. It was hard to focus on the sound of nearby fighting bouncing off the trees and echoing infinitely through the entire forest. And yet, Connor managed to pick up the sound of footsteps to his right and spun around. He aimed his weapon at the approaching figure, waited until he could see whether it was friend or foe and then froze in his tracks.

The man that joined Connor in this particular part of the forest was no other than Hank, who looked just as shocked to see Connor here than the brunet himself. It had been a long time since they had last met and Connor was overjoyed for a second. Then, his gaze landed on the grey of Hank’s uniform and his heart sank. They were on opposing sides of the war.

Connor was tempted to laugh but the situation seemed too dire for even the darkest type of humor. Here he was, finally meeting his soulmate again for the first time in years and yet destiny was cruel enough to make them enemies in a brutal war. It was just their luck. Hank seemed to think something similar if Connor read his expression correctly. For a moment, the brunet wondered if he should say anything or just stay quiet. But he didn’t know what to say and so he said nothing.

Instead, Connor only stared at Hank and the other man stared right back. Then, Hank slowly lowered his rifle.

“Connor”, he muttered numbly. He seemed unsure of what to do next and Connor wasn’t sure how to proceed either. Technically, they were in combat. Their fellow soldiers were fighting and dying in the thousands around them. It seemed like too cruel a fate for them to meet right here and now under these circumstances. 

Connor gazed bitterly at Hank’s grey uniform as if he could turn it blue by sheer power of will. But it stayed how it was and deep down Connor knew that the color of one’s clothes didn’t matter when it came to it. If Hank was wearing this uniform, he had chosen a side in this war. That should be enough for Connor to kill him. The mere knowledge that Hank was on the other side should be enough but yet here Connor was, grasping at whatever straws he could reach, trying to explain away what was in plain sight. 

“Why?”, he asked after several moments of silence, “I thought you were a good man.” 

“Am I not?”, Hank wanted to know and Connor could feel tears gathering in his eyes. He wasn’t even sure whether it was from sadness or anger.

“How can one be a good man if he agrees to enslave others?!”, he exclaimed, his hands trembling, where he still held his gun raised high and aimed at Hank. 

“It’s their fate!”, Hank replied with barely any hesitation, “It’s how nature has made them and how it’s made us. We need them just as much as they need us.” 

Connor was ready to scream in frustration but that would most likely give away their position and could potentially end both their lives. So he bit the inside of his cheek and took a deep breath. He wanted to argue, tell Hank how he was oh so very wrong and if only he allowed Connor to show him the error of his ways he would see the truth. But something determined and challenging had appeared on Hank’s face. With growing dread, Connor realized that he was probably not the first to try and talk sense into Hank. He must have had this argument many times and the chances that he would now suddenly change sides had to be catastrophically low. 

“What do we do now?”, Connor asked eventually. It was a genuine question, not void of frustration but not accusing. He truly had no idea what they could or should be doing now and how they were to progress from here. With the war raging on as it was, there was hardly any chance for them to survive, let alone build a life together. Connor wasn’t even sure he wanted this with this version of Hank. There were many things he could overlook but disagreeing about something so fundamental as the rights of fellow human beings just couldn’t be fixed if they only avoided speaking about it. 

A treacherous little voice at the back of his head reminded Connor of the fact that he had managed to overlook Hank and his men destroying the monastery he had lived in with Niles back in the 9th century and killing dozens of innocent men. Connor had thought he could never love Hank then and yet he had fallen for him like all the times before. Who was to say that things would be different this time? 

But Connor didn’t want it to be like that again. He didn’t begrudge his past self. Despite them sharing the same soul, the lives he lead and the person he became in each cycle often varied greatly from another. They were shaped by ideas and events of the time, they grew and learned. Towards what goal, Connor didn’t know. Maybe one day all of this would end when the universe was done teaching him whatever lesson it had been trying to teach for the past centuries. So far, Connor had already learned that what had seemed good and right to one version of him wasn’t necessarily the same for another. Maybe if the version of him that had lived in the monastery was here now, he would look past this Hank’s errors too. All Connor knew was that this current version of him wasn’t going to do that.

“I don’t know”, Hank said softly, looking as worried and confused as Connor himself all of a sudden, “I guess you do what you should and we meet again in another life.”

Connor’s heart very nearly tore in two at Hank’s words. It was painful to see how cruelly the centuries of fighting, living and dying alongside each other had left their marks on both of them. Hank could always be morose but Connor felt that it was getting worse and worse. For the other man to tell Connor to simply kill him and meet him again in some distant future was a new low and almost too overwhelming for Connor to grasp. 

And suddenly he knew he couldn’t kill Hank. As much as he hated the ideas Hank had subscribed himself to and as just as it may be, he knew he wouldn’t be able to go through with it. Who was to say this wasn’t the last cycle they would get? What if this was well and truly the end, the last time they met and it ended with Connor shooting Hank without ever getting the chance to tell him how much he loved him all those times before and how he would have wished to love him in this life as well.

“I can’t do it”, Connor admitted and lowered his weapon. Sadness overtook him because he knew that sparing Hank’s life didn’t mean they had a future together. They would still have to fight on and if both of them survived by some miracle, there was still no chance to find the other again and even less of a chance at a life together with how different their views were. It hurt to know that even if he could help Hank now, Connor couldn’t be with the man. And it was strange that it hurt because Connor was still not sure he would want to be with Hank even if he got the chance. 

“Then what happens next?”, Hank asked. He stood frozen to the spot, not moving even though Connor could feel that he wanted to. 

“You leave this place”, Connor told Hank, trying to sound more determined and surer of himself than he truly felt, “You go back to your men and fight alongside them until the day we beat you.”

Connor even managed a smile at his last words and even though he was quite sure it was more watery than anything else, Hank returned it. His smile was almost as weak as Connor’s but there was an understanding in it. Something that said, _“I might not change my point of view for you but I respect your decision and am grateful for it.”_.

“I will remember you, Connor”, Hank said, shouldering his weapon, “You spared me and I will always be grateful for that. I’m sorry I could not be the one you wanted in this life.” 

“I’m sorry too”, Connor replied. Hank’s words had sounded so sincere they felt like a stab to the heart and for a moment it was hard for Connor to keep tears from rolling down his face. He truly wished everything was different but fate seemed to like playing cruel games with them and there was nothing they could change about it. All they could do was let it happen, adapt to the best of their abilities and try not to get their hearts broken beyond repair.

Hank was probably the only one in this world, who understood Connor at this very moment. Niles had understood it too and despite never knowing him too well, Connor was sure that Gavin understood too. It was moments like these, where Connor wished Niles was still around. His brother had understood Connor and offered a comforting shoulder if things were bad with Hank. But ever since a long and happy life by Gavin’s side in the 16th century, Niles hadn’t reincarnated. Maybe he had run out of cycles or was being reincarnated as someone other than Connor’s brother. Connor didn’t know. All he knew was that he missed him.

Occupied with his ponderings about Niles, Connor almost missed how Hank waved at him. Hurriedly, the brunet waved back. Then, Hank turned around and walked off. Soon, he vanished between the trees surrounding them. Connor was left behind with cold forest air and the sound of nearby gunfire.

With a sigh, he too turned and set to find fellow union soldiers. He really hoped that this was not the end and that he and Hank would get another chance.


	19. Finding an ally in you - part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **TW/CW:** War, Death, Character being shot

Hank kept his head low as he lit a cigarette and listened to the noises around him.  
  
It was a nerve-wracking cacophony of howling projectiles flying through the air, the rattling sound of machine-gun fire and the deep, earth-shattering booms with which bombs hit the ground. Around him, soldiers yelled, calling out to one another for support or supplies.   
  
Strangely enough, the noise was more calming than the silence that fell over the trenches some nights. At least during times like these, everyone was free to be as noisy as they wanted to be. They could call out to each other, curse or even cry if no one was there to see it. During the nights, fire was often ceased for a limited amount of time and the silence was almost as deafening as the bombs and artillery during the days. No one could make a sound in the trenches or the small huts erected in them. Even a sneeze or a shout after waking up from a nightmare could alert the enemy to their presence and cost countless lives. No one wanted that on their conscience.  
  
Hank was almost eerily calm at the moment. He had been at the front for almost two years now and he was pretty sure that nothing could shock him anymore. He was tough and battle-hardened and so what if his hands trembled whenever he wasn’t holding a gun or he woke up in the middle of the night with tears on his cheeks sometimes. Hank was also drinking and smoking a lot more than he ever had back at home but everyone around here did, so surely no one would hold that against him.  
  
At least the weather was nice, Hank told himself. It wasn’t often like this in the late summer of 1917. There were patches of blue sky coming through the clouds and the smoke that covered most of the sky on any given day. It was even comparatively warm. Given he was on break now anyway, Hank allowed his mind to roam and wondered what he would be doing on a day like this if he was back at home and not in a trench in the east of France.   
  
Maybe he would have spent it with some of his friends from the pub. They might have gone to the nearby lake to cool off and maybe some girls would have come to join them. Ben’s mother could have prepared a pie for them like she often did, being at least half the reason Ben was the size he was. Hank wondered briefly what Ben was doing at the moment. He had been too big to join the military so maybe he was still back at home, working on his father’s farm or in a factory, producing the shells that would be brought to the front so Hank and his comrades could kill Germans. It was nice to think that Ben was back at home and safe and that he helped Hank fight in his own way.  


Hank was so lost in thought that he barely registered the young man coming closer until he sat down next to him. The sudden movement in his peripheral vision made Hank jerk to the side and stare wide-eyed at the brunet.   
  
First Hank’s eyes landed on his uniform: A bright blue – obviously a French boy. No other country would be insane enough to send soldiers to the battlefield in such bright colors. But at least it was a nicer uniform to die in than Hank’s own khaki one.   
Then Hank looked the young man in the eyes and his stomach twisted painfully at the realization of who was sitting in front of him.  
  
Hank hardly ever thought about Connor before they met. It was like his mind deleted memories of the man until it was time for them to meet again. He remembered vaguely some incidents and the shape of Connor’s face but hardly ever much more than that. This time, when Hank woke up after a particularly nasty nightmare and tried to go back to sleep, he had suddenly thought of the young man, however. He had hoped that maybe he was too young to be drafted, maybe not even born yet. It hardly ever happened that Hank and Connor met while they were both young and Hank was barely twenty-five himself this time around. Connor looked like he had only turned eighteen yesterday and the fact that he was so young combined with the reality that he was here almost made Hank gag.   
  
“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you!”, Connor hurried to apologize and the accent in his voice as he spoke to him almost made Hank’s heart melt, “The others said I should check in on you. They were afraid you were going to have a meltdown or hurt yourself.” Connor’s hand landed gently on Hank’s forearm and he was too caught up in his worry to shove it away.  
  
“I’m fine”, Hank replied curtly instead, staring down at his dirty and worn-out boots so he didn’t have to look Connor in the eyes. Both men were silent for a while.

“I really hoped I wouldn’t meet you here”, Connor said after a few beats of silence and Hank could only nod around a lump that formed in his throat, “Usually you are older. I hoped you were already too old to be drafted, maybe…”  
  
“Oh, sorry to disappoint”, Hank joked sarcastically and he could see Connor wince out of the corner of his eye, “Can’t promise I’ll grow much older than this.” 

“Don’t say such things!”, Connor exclaimed so loudly that Hank clapped a hand over his mouth out of pure instinct. They stared at each other for a while and only when Connor’s expression softened again did Hank let go of him.   
  
“You shouldn’t be here either”, Hank said wearily, finally remembering that he had been smoking before Connor came. He went to bring the cigarette back to his lips but realized he had dropped it at some point. With a sigh, he lit himself another.  
  
“How old are you? Sixteen? Seventeen?”, he asked Connor as he lit the cigarette.   
  
“I turned eighteen last month”, the brunet replied, almost pouting at the insinuation that he could still be a child. Hank was torn between laughing and feeling bad for him. He had been the same a few years back, thinking he knew it all and that the world couldn’t harm him. But then the war had started and it had slapped some humility into him. He was sure it would be the same for Connor soon enough. 

“I can’t believe they’re sending fucking kids to the front now”, Hank growled and took a long drag from his cigarette. To his surprise, Connor nodded solemnly next to him.  
  
“I hope this war ends soon so they don’t draft my brother too”, he muttered, eyes growing wide and wet with tears. Hank remembered Connor having a brother in previous lives. Not every time but sometimes and they were always thick as thieves. They had probably lost each other as often as Hank and Connor had and Hank didn’t even want to imagine the pain of having to lose two people you held dear every cycle.  
  
Without a word, he held his cigarette out to Connor, who took it and smoked the rest of it. He did so without even coughing. Connor must be doing this for a while now. Maybe he had been at the front for longer than Hank thought. He wondered what Connor had seen and if this war would ever end. And if it did, if they would be able to forget and be happy with each other afterward. It wasn’t the first war they saw but the first that Hank could remember, where they weren’t on opposite sides of the conflict. It was a breath of fresh air but it didn’t mean they would end up being any happier than the other times they had faced each other in combat.  
  
“So, what brings you here?”, Hank asked after a few moments of silence. It was a stupid question. The war had brought all of them here. They followed orders by their superiors and that was it.  
  
“My battalion was sent here to assist yours”, Connor replied with a crooked smile, “Maybe fate wanted to see us back together again.” Hank nodded but thought to himself that they much rather had his superior, Captain Allen, to thank for that. The man had been writing to the nearest strategic headquarters for weeks now, asking for reinforcements because their emplacement was harder and harder to defend each day. Apparently, he had finally been successful. Why headquarters had decided to send French soldiers instead of more Brits was beyond Hank but maybe that was truly fates doing.  
  
Before he could say anything else to Connor, a shell hit the ground close to the edge of the trench. The explosion was deafening and dirt and debris splattered all over them. For a moment, it felt as if they were being buried alive. Hank cursed under his breath as he got to his feet and brushed the soil off of his uniform – not that it made much of a difference either way. Then, he looked around to see if anyone nearby was injured or anything in need of repair. What caught his eye, however, was Connor cowering by his feet, frightened and wide-eyed.  
  
A moment later, Hank was on his knees, both hands on Connor’s shoulders and looking him deep in the eyes. He heard someone speak and it took him longer than he liked to admit to realize he was the one talking. Hank didn’t even know what he was saying, only that he was desperately trying to calm Connor down because the young man looked about two seconds away from planting a bullet in his own skull. Finally, blessedly he seemed to calm down and Hank gave him a small smile.  
  
“Don’t you worry”, he said and gave one of Connor’s shoulders a reassuring squeeze, “I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.”  
  
And that Hank did. All through a terribly cold winter, a muddy spring and through most of the most exhausting summer Hank had ever experienced in his life. Wherever they were, in the trenches or out on the battlefields, Hank and Connor somehow always managed to find each other and look after one another. The other soldiers started talking and at one point there was a very uncomfortable talk between Hank and Captain Allen but no one dared try to separate them or openly harass them.  
  
Finally, when summer was almost coming to an end again, news suggested that Germany was close to collapsing. The information, even if it was just a rumor, was balm on the soldiers’ souls. After many of them had fought for several years now, the thought of this bloody war finally coming to an end was a dream come true.  
Hank couldn’t wait to finally return home and take Connor with him. They had grown incredibly close these past months and sometimes the thought of spending the rest of his life with Connor was all that kept Hank on his feet.  
  
He was currently thinking about how he would ask Connor to come to England with him after the war was over when a bullet drilled itself into his torso. Before Hank even registered what had happened, his body hit the dry earth at the bottom of the trenches. He tasted blood in his mouth and his vision quickly became blurry. Hank was almost tempted to laugh. It was just his luck to survive this long only to die before he could start a happy life with Connor. His breath left him in wheezing gasps as blood soaked into his uniform.  
  
The last thing Hank thought of before his world went dark was how much this was going to hurt Connor.


	20. Finding an ally in you - part 2

When Hank opened his eyes again it was quiet around him and that was a surprise because he hadn’t been anywhere quiet in months.  
The room around him was rather dark but clean and warm and Hank had half a mind to just go back to sleep when he realized he had no idea where he was.

He tried to sit up but immediately collapsed back onto the mattress when a sharp pain exploded in his side. Hank shoved a hand underneath the sheet covering him and ran it across his torso until he came across the spot that hurt so badly. He felt cloth and gauze covering it but that was about as far as he dared to go with his investigation. Touching the wound even if it was just as lightly as Hank had done just now was awfully painful. Besides, a voice in the back of his head screamed about wounds becoming infected and leaving even worse injuries and Hank wasn’t going to risk that.  
  
Slowly, the events from god knows when started coming back to Hank. He had been out in the trenches as he had been for the majority of the past two years. Then, something had gotten jarred at the edge of the trench and Hank had been the one to climb up there and try to fix it. There, he had been hit and had fallen back into the trench and that was about as much as he remembered.   
  
Looking around once more, Hank realized he had to be in a hospital. It wasn’t clean or calming in its atmosphere like the one Hank had visited before the war had been but it still felt like a safe haven. There were no sounds of bombs slamming into the ground around him, no shouts or cries of pain. The ever-present stench of the trenches and of too many men crammed into too little space was blissfully absent too. What was still around, however, Hank realized when he turned his head to the left and the right to see if he was alone were the empty gazes of fellow soldiers and the haunting fear just below the surface.   
  
Hank closed his eyes tightly and took a deep breath. He wanted to let someone know that he was awake. Who knew how long he had slept. Maybe he had fallen into the coma and outside the war was already over. The thought made his heart race in his chest and Hank tried to get into a sitting position again to alert someone to the fact that he was awake. It hurt just as bad as the first time and he collapsed back against the mattress again. Someone must have seen him, though, because a minute later a nurse and a doctor were by his bedside, looking him over and asking all kinds of questions Hank wasn’t sure he was giving the correct answers for.  
  
After they left him alone again, Hank felt like sleeping for about a year but then a door at the end of the room opened and Connor entered the room. Hank’s mood immediately brightened at the sight of the young man, who beamed at him with tears in his eyes as he made his way towards Hank’s bed.

“I’m so glad you’re alive”, Connor said before bending down and carefully wrapping an arm around Hank. It was barely even a hug but Hank reveled in the touch and in the knowledge that Connor was here and alive and not still out there somewhere.  
  
“How long was I gone?”, Hank asked, his throat dry and voice rough. Connor grabbed a pitcher and a glass from a nearby table and helped Hank drink some water first before answering his question.  
  
“You were shot almost a month ago”, Connor said, his expression darkening, “Your wound healed without much trouble but you were almost never conscious. No one knew why. The doctors suspected trauma. Sometimes you would wake up for a minute or two but you never answered when anyone talked to you and then you went back to being unconscious. This is the first time you’re awake for more than five minutes at a time.”   
  
“Were you here all the time?”, Hank wanted to know because what Connor had said sounded a lot like that had been the case. The brunet nodded.  
  
“When you were shot and brought to the hospital, Captain Allen sent me with you. He said I should keep an eye on you”, Connor explained, a soft expression returning to his features, “He made my superiors accept his decision and I’ve been on leave for four weeks now.”   
  
“Well, at least something good came of my injuries, then”, Hank commented weakly, sleep already threatening to overwhelm him again. But there was something he needed to know before he drifted off again.  
  
“Is the war still going on?”, he asked. Connor nodded and sighed. Hank knew it had been foolish to even hope that the war had finally come to an end but it would have been nice to recover, knowing neither he nor Connor were in immediate danger of being sent back to the front.  
  
“We’re pushing the Germans back further and further but they’re still fighting back”, Connor told Hank, “There’s talk that the Kaiser has abdicated and left Germany but if that’s true the Germans don’t act like it. No one knows if they’ll ever give up.”   
  
“It’s good we’re here then”, Hank muttered, his eyes falling shut again. He hoped he would wake up soon. Not seeing Connor for another few weeks sounded like torture to him. But there was nothing Hank could do about it for the time being. He fell asleep to the feeling of Connor’s fingers gently carding through his hair.   
  


Luckily, Hank woke up again the next morning and got to talk to Connor a bit more. As it turned out, the rumors of the Kaiser’s abdication had been wrong but he had still left Germany.  
  
“That’s not something someone does, who thinks they’ll win, right?”, Connor asked as he helped Hank into a sitting position to have his lunch. Sitting was still painful but now that he was awake, Hank refused to eat the goop they would usually feed him and that meant he would have to sit. He pulled a face as the pain kept pounding in his side but began to eat nonetheless.  
  
“No, it isn’t”, he told Connor after the first careful bites, “But it doesn’t mean the Germans will just give up like this. Sometimes, when their rulers abandon them, people can become desperate and unpredictable. We shouldn’t count on them surrendering just because the Kaiser left the country.”  
  
Connor sighed and nodded. And despite the amusement, Hank felt at the younger man’s hopeful naivety he understood his disappointment. He was pretty sure that everyone on the continent just wanted this war to be over and done with. But the people weren’t the ones to decide when that was going to happen. It was their kings and presidents making war or peace however they pleased. It was a painful truth to accept and it pained Hank that Connor had to learn it in this way.  
  
“I’ve been thinking”, the young man suddenly said, just before Hank could console him, “Even if the war won’t be over just yet, we could still think about our future.”  
  
“Sure”, Hank agreed, hear, beating hard in his chest. He remembered that he had planned to ask Connor to go back to England with him before he was shot and maybe now he would have the chance to finally put his plan into action.  
  
“I was wondering if you’d like to stay in France with me”, Connor continued, throwing Hank for a loop for the second time in one minute, “My family owns a sweet little house in the south, near the sea. We would be far away from all of…this.”  
  
Hank’s rapidly beating heart clenched at that. Connor was still so young. He shouldn’t have anything he wanted to forget so badly. If Hank had any say in it, Connor was to have only happy memories for all his life. Unfortunately, he didn’t have a say in it and as it seemed, Connor had made quite the amount of unpleasant memories these past months. But maybe, Hank thought, if he couldn’t change what had already happened, he could at least make sure that all of Connor’s future memories were happy ones – preferably with Hank in them.  
  
For a moment, Hank thought of his mother and his friend Ben back in England. They would surely miss him terribly if he were to leave just like that. But maybe if he wrote them a letter, explaining that he had met the love of his life, they would understand. He could at least try. Besides, Hank was sure that Connor would miss his family equally badly if he were to go to England with Hank. One of them would have to give up his old life and Hank was more than happy to volunteer.  
  
“I’d love to stay and be with you”, he told Connor and watched contentedly as the brunet’s entire face lit up with a brilliant smile. Hank watched Connor’s muscles tense up with the urge to pounce on him and kiss him. The older man desperately wanted to do the same but if they were caught kissing in a military hospital, there would be no future for them, not in England and not in France. So they were left to grin at each other like madmen and promise each other how much they were looking forward to living together.  
  
“I can’t wait for this war to be over and to live with you for the rest of my life”, Connor said reverently, looking out of the window and into the distance as if he could stop the fighting if only he wanted it strongly enough. Hank couldn’t help but smile softly at that and join Connor in imagining what their life together would be like.

Weeks passed and Hank was steadily getting better. Then, finally, a day before he was supposed to be released, Germany surrendered. The entire hospital was in the mood for celebrating and every patient, who could stomach it, received a glass of whiskey. Hank had always known he’d be happy when the war finally came to an end but nothing could ever compare to the ecstasy he felt at the knowledge that not only did he not have to go back into the trenches but that he would also be able to spend the rest of his life with the man he loved.  
  
Immediately upon his release, Hank and Connor set everything in motion to collect their few personal belongings from headquarters and be allowed to go their ways. It took far too long for both of them and they grew more and more restless each day. Then, finally, just a week before New Year’s Eve, they were finally allowed to leave and do as they pleased.  
  
It felt strange, Hank thought as they got on a train that would get them closer to their destination, to be walking around without several weapons on his person for the first time in years. He felt lighter but also more vulnerable and had to constantly tell himself that he was safe now and so was Connor. No one would attack them anymore. They were finally at peace and together. 

The moment they set foot into the tiny, abandoned cottage near the coast, Hank pulled Connor in for a kiss. They had been wanting to do this for far too long but never dared to do it because the risk of getting caught was too big, the consequences too severe. But now, they were alone and happy and no one could harm them. It was the most at peace than Hank had felt in years, possibly in his whole life and he looked forward to feeling like this until the end of their lives.   
  


  
The end of Connor’s life came a mere two years later. It had been a cold, harsh winter. There was barely enough food to survive as it was and when a nasty infection took hold of Connor’s body, he was too weak to fight it. Hank buried him in the middle of January 1922 and then returned to England. He couldn’t stand living in the house he had shared with the man he loved and lost.  
  
Hank swore to himself that he would mourn Connor until the end of his life. What he didn’t know was that before this cycle ended for him, he would meet Connor once more…


	21. An enemy from a lover - part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **TW/CW:** Death/Murder, Nazism, References to Antisemitism/Holocaust. 
> 
> This is probably the darkest chapter in all of this so proceed carefully. As for the civil war chapter: None of the opinions/political stances etc. are mine or what I think the characters would support in canon!

Hank looked around as their convoy slowly rolled through the ruins of Berlin. It might have been a beautiful city in some strange, alternate reality. Right now, it was only grey and cold and desolate. Silence weighed heavy between the sounds of artillery and gunshots in the distance. Planes flew overhead and the shouting of their fellow soldiers could be heard all around. Hank felt reminded so harshly of the last time he went to war that it almost made him sick.

Strangely enough, he had lived not only through the great war, as some still called it, but for decades after it and into the next big war. And here Hank was now in his mid-fifties, sitting in the back of a military jeep and fighting another useless war against Germany. Many things he experienced were almost painfully similar to what Hank had lived through before and yet this war was different from the last. It was even crueler and more monstrous, ending the lives of so many more innocent people than the last time.  
  
But it seemed like they were finally going to be able to bring an end to the suffering. The Russians were gaining more and more territory in the east, while Hank and his compatriots pushed the German soldiers back from the west. Their lines hadn’t met yet but they were just about to and Hank was the member of a small committee of high-ranking British officers sent to Berlin to meet with some of the American and Russian generals and find a way to beat the Nazis once and for all. It was about time.  
  
There was only one thing that worried Hank and it was the fact that he hadn’t met Connor yet. He tried to calm himself, to convince himself that maybe Connor just hadn’t been reborn yet or was too young to be fighting in this war too. He had barely been 18 the last time they met at the front. Maybe he had been lucky this time around. But every time Hank had almost convinced himself that this had to be how things were, doubt reared its ugly head.  
  
Fate had played cruel tricks on them many times before and Hank was not about to let his guard down. It was always better to be prepared for the worst and save oneself many nasty surprises. Still, Hank had no idea what he would do if it turned out that Connor had been reborn as a German this time around. He knew the way he often instantly and irreversibly fell in love with the younger man when they first laid eyes on each other and Hank was not sure how and if he could cope with that, should Connor actually be a German.  
  
Sure, he could have always been one of those, who didn’t agree with the Nazis’ ideas and simply tried to live their lives in peace. But those people were rarer than the Germans wanted the Allies to believe, Hank was sure of it. But as long as Connor didn’t actually buy into all the Nazis’ lies and their cruel ideologies, Hank supposed he could turn a blind eye and find a way to love Connor. If he found him here at all, that was. The day they had been presented with films from the camps the Russians had freed, Hank had stared at them so intently his eyes hurt, always worried that he would find a familiar face among the mountains of corpses. As of yet, he hadn’t found Connor in the footage but that didn’t mean he couldn’t still be out there somewhere.   
  
Hank shook his head violently to free himself from that particular train of thought. It was an awful one and one he hated to follow down its tracks. Luckily, their jeep stopped in front of a building that was a little less bombed-out than the others right at this moment and Hank welcomed the distraction from his own gloomy thoughts with open arms.

Some of the other men from the jeep entered the building but Hank was ordered to wait outside and stand guard. He didn’t mind particularly. It was kind of cold and he could hear the sound of fighting nearby so there was always the chance of Hank running into some unpleasant complications. But what bothered him was none of that. Instead, it was the fact that he was now alone with his thoughts again and it was kind of hard to keep them from straying down dark paths once more.

  
  
To distract himself, Hank looked around what little of Berlin he could see from where he stood. It was a pitiful sight. Most houses were bombed out or turned to rubble entirely. Sometimes, huddled figures would emerge from some hole in the ground, climbing out of whatever basement they had been hiding in and scurry across the street. They kept their eyes on Hank at all times, some worried that he might shoot, others with open contempt or even hatred. Hank didn’t care. Right now, it wasn’t his job to fight the civilians. They would be taken care of once the fighting was finally over. It wouldn’t be nice but it had to be done.   
  
At one point, Hank saw a group of kids, all in torn and dirty Hitler Youth uniforms racing across the street and vanishing in a dark alleyway between the shells of two houses. Hank frowned. It might not be his job to deal with civilians but this looked extremely suspicious. Even the youngest Germans were incredibly fanatic and devoted to fighting to the death it seemed. And if they were gathering somewhere close to the British impromptu headquarters of the day, that could mean they were planning an attack. Hank had to check this out. Besides the fact that this what he had been placed outside the building for, he also felt a strange pull towards where the boys had vanished.   
  
Hank had felt it before occasionally. Before he had met Connor the first time at an evening event back in 16th century Venice. Or when he raided the monastery Connor and his brother lived at five centuries before that. The feeling didn’t always manifest itself but sometimes he would just know before he met Connor in a cycle. Hank was less than thrilled to feel it now, as he slowly left his post and cautiously inched closer towards the alley. His hands clung to the gun he had not put down ever since they entered Berlin. One could never be too careful.  
  
Finally, Hank rounded the corner, gun raised in front of him and ready to jump behind the nearest wall, should he be attacked.   
  
Instead, all he found was a rag-tag group of boys aged around nine to 13 years gathered around a young man in a black uniform. The boys stared at Hank, then back up at their leader. Some seemed scared, others had a grim determination on their faces that made shivers run down Hank’s spine. All of the children seemed unarmed so Hank lowered his gun slightly. These were just children. They had been brainwashed by a cruel regime but maybe they could become good people again. Hank sure wasn’t going to shoot them at point-blank range. Their leader on the other hand…  
  
Hank eventually looked up at the man and his heart was filled with a strange mixture of relief and immense dread at the same time. As he had feared, Connor stood in front of him, clad head to toe in the black uniform, boots, and hat of the SS. Any pretense that Connor might have been dragged into whatever he might have done these past years was thrown out the window in an instant. No one, who wore a uniform like this, had the slightest doubts that the Nazi ideology was the only right way to live.  
  
Hank’s heart clenched at the coldness he found in Connor’s brown eyes. Usually, they were full of warmth and compassion, excitement and love. But now they were filled with hatred and anger. It was painful to see the young man like this and it wasn’t the first time Hank cursed fate for playing such cruel tricks on him and Connor.   
  
“Geht jetzt”, Connor said to the boys surrounding him. They glanced back and forth between Hank and him for a few seconds, then they obeyed and sprinted off through the other end of the alley. Hank watched them leave until he caught movement from the corner of his eyes and raised his gun again, pointing it directly at Connor.   
  
The young man had drawn his own weapon in the meantime, staring down the barrel angrily. Hank had never seen him like this and he was not sure he could ever forget what Connor had become. He wanted to tell himself that it wasn’t Connor’s face but he couldn’t make himself believe it fully. The evidence against Connor was just too damning. Hank didn’t even want to know what he had done these past years. The thoughts alone made him nauseous.   
  
The two men faced each other in the dark alley, guns raised and ready to shoot the moment one of them let his guard down. Hank had no idea how long they were stuck in this stalemate when something unexpected happened.  
  
Connor’s eyes suddenly glazed over, the hatred in them evaporating and leaving behind the empty shell of a young man, who had believed in what he thought was a grand idea and was now being bitterly disappointed. The brunet lowered his gun and for a second Hank was tempted to do the same. But he knew he couldn’t do this. He also couldn’t let Connor escape like he so desperately wanted to.   
  
Hank remembered the time all those years ago when they had met under similar circumstances. Connor had let him get away back then. Part of Hank argued that it would only be fair to let Connor flee now, too, but the much more rational part made it clear that this was a vastly different situation. Back then, there had been a chance that Hank would actually get away and could be reintegrated into the new society that was being built. But Hank knew that nothing like that was in the cards for Connor. The Germans had led such a cruel war that there was just no way someone like Connor would be let off the hook easily. Besides, Hank wasn’t even sure he wanted to see Connor simply start over after the war as if he hadn’t done all sorts of cruel things to other people.  
  
Every time so far when there had been a situation, where Hank could have prevented Connor from dying, he would have done it in a heartbeat and had often actually done so. But right now, he figured that death at his hand was the kinder, if not the more just alternative. It was the first time Hank wasn’t sure he could ever love this iteration of Connor but as much as it filled him with grief, he knew his feelings were justified. And it seemed like Connor had read his thoughts and understood.  
  
“It’s okay”, he said softly, in English this time and threw his gun to the side, “I’m an enemy soldier. Do what you have to do.” 

Later Hank would sometimes use that as an excuse. It would have been against his orders not to shoot plotting enemy soldiers on sight. It would have been cruel to all the Nazis’ innocent victims to let Connor run away because Hank was attached to him in some way. And yet Hank never really managed to convince himself.

But he managed to, at this moment, pull the trigger.  
  
A bullet buried itself deep in Connor’s chest and the young man collapsed instantly. Hank dropped his gun and was by his side in an instant. Seeing the light leave Connor’s eyes for what felt like the hundredth time now hurt just as badly as the first time around and not even the knowledge that he had done a good thing could calm Hank’s bad conscience.   
  
He looked at the body by his feet, the pale skin and the now-empty brown eyes. And suddenly Hank knew that he couldn’t just leave Connor’s body here. He might not deserve it but Hank was sure remorse would eat him whole if he didn’t at least grant Connor a proper burial. The thought of the young man being thrown into some mass grave outside the city with hundreds of other bodies made Hank want to throw up.  
  
There was no going back for Hank. He knew it was completely insane and could potentially get him in serious trouble but he would bury Connor if it was the last thing he did.


	22. An enemy from a lover - part 2

Hank wrapped Connor’s lifeless body in his jacket and laid him down in the back of the truck, spreading a blanket over him so no one would see him. If any of his fellow soldiers saw him driving around the body of a fucking Nazi they’d shoot him on the spot and Hank wouldn’t even hold it against them. What he was doing was insane and Hank knew it. But he was also consumed by grief and knew that he would regret it for the rest of his life if he didn’t bury Connor properly. It was more of a courtesy than the brunet and his people had ever extended to their enemies but Hank tried not to think about that now. 

Still, as he drove through bombed-out Berlin, Hank wondered what kind of person Connor had been when he was still alive. Hank had seen him living, breathing for all of two minutes and that had been it. He knew nothing about who the man he had lived through so many lifetimes with. Nothing except that destiny had placed them on different ends of a conflict yet again and that Connor was still wearing  _ that uniform _ . Hank wanted to desperately tell himself that Connor was one of the good ones, that he had only done the Nazis’ bidding because they would have killed him otherwise. But Connor was wearing that uniform and Hank knew better than to lie to himself. 

The black of the uniform had made Connor look ghostly pale even when he was still alive. Hank didn’t even want to turn around and see what he looked like now. Hank wanted to tear the fabric off of Connor, wash him clean of the sins he might have committed throughout his life and allow himself a memory untainted by what he could only assume Connor had done these past years. Hank remembered the videos from the camps they had been shown earlier this year. The images had turned Hank’s stomach upside down and made him despise the Germans even more than he had before. And to think that Connor had been part of a system like this felt like it had been Hank, who had been shot in the heart and not the brunet.

Hank wanted to, desperately tried to find a way to explain away the evidence that lay clear as day in the backseat of the jeep. No one, who was not completely absorbed in the Nazi’s wicked ideology would ever wear a uniform like that. The skull on Connor’s hat grinned at Hank in the rearview mirror, taunting him. The Brit wondered what Connor would have told him if he was still alive. Maybe he would have said that he’d had no other choice, that he had to do the Nazi’s bidding or he would’ve been killed himself. Or that he didn’t know any better because he had been indoctrinated since he was a child. It was all the Nazis ever said, as far as Hank knew from his fellow soldiers, who were in contact with them in cities that were already liberated. 

“God, fucking why?!”, Hank growled, slamming his hand down on the steering wheel. Hadn’t destiny already pulled more than enough cruel stunts on Connor and him? Did it really have to make him a Nazi of all fucking things on this planet?!

Hank had realized recently that the more often he returned, the more clearly he remembered his past lives. Where it had been vague shades, memories that felt more like dreams than anything and phantom sensations that haunted his waking hours, Hank could now clearly remember most of what happened between Connor and him. It put things into perspective and made for a good way to keep his hopes up when everything seemed dark. But aside from that, Hank wasn’t sure if those memories were a blessing or a curse. Sure, the good things had helped him through many hardships in the past but the bad things wore him down all the more. 

Hank thought as he left Berlin behind and drove out into the open fields surrounding the city that it shouldn’t hurt as much as it did to lose Connor again. He had lost the younger man before and, if destiny wasn’t done playing with them yet, would see him again in a different life. And yet, his heart ached despite it and all that he knew – or thought that he knew about Connor. It seemed that no matter how often it happened, losing the person you loved never stopped hurting. Maybe, in his next life, Hank should be writing books on how to cope with loss, he thought bitterly. If anyone had any experience with it, it would be him.

He tried not to think about the many times Connor must have watched him die, too, lived on and mourned Hank until destiny was kind enough to end his life too. Hank remembered how excited he had been at first at the prospect to be with Connor again and again and again until the end of time. But the first time they had met, they had been immensely lucky and hadn’t even known it. If Hank had known then what heartache being reincarnated and meeting the love of your life and seeing them die time and again would bring, he would have done everything in his power to rid himself of this burden.

But Hank had been naïve back then, thinking that as long as he had Connor, everything would work out somehow and they would find happiness together. They hadn’t always. More often than not it had ended in tragedy and many other times they’d had to fight for every little scrap of happiness. But they had almost always managed to carve out a place for themselves in a cruel, uncaring world and the thought of that made a small smile graze Hank’s features for the first time in what felt like months. 

God, he could only hope that this was not the end for them. There just had to be something more appropriate awaiting them. If not, Hank would have to throw some punches once he reached the afterlife. 

Eventually, Hank felt like he had driven far enough from the city. It had been hard enough to get through and out of Berlin without being caught and with every added mile he drove, the risk of being caught heightened immensely. And Hank had come too far to be caught now. All he wanted was to bury the man he had loved in so many past lives and that he wasn’t sure he would have been able to love in this one and then forget any of this had ever even happened. 

Hank parked the jeep at the side of a deserted road, grabbed a spade from the back of it and walked into a nearby field. When the spade connected with the earth for the first time, Hank was suddenly acutely aware of the possibility that the ground was filled to the brim with grenades and bombs just waiting to go off. But he soon found that he didn’t care much. Either he was lucky enough not to hit any of them and getting his business done without issue – or he wasn’t and in that case, it really wasn’t his job to worry about anything anymore.

Soon, Hank was huffing and puffing, digging deeper and deeper into the earth. It was still comparatively cold for a day in late April but at least the soil wasn’t frozen. Hank wasn’t sure if he would have been able to go through with his plans had that been the case. His hands and arms already began aching and the hole was nowhere near deep enough to hold a human corpse. Gritting his teeth, Hank worked on in silence, hoping the sun wouldn’t sink too early.

In the end, Hank had no idea how long he had been working. It must have been hours and he could only hope that among the fighting and chaos still going on in Berlin, no one would miss him and the jeep. He hadn’t thought of an excuse yet in case someone did miss him and he wasn’t sure he could come up with anything convincing either way but that was a problem to solve at a later time, anyhow. 

Right now, Hank opened the door of the jeep and carefully pulled Connor’s body out of the vehicle. It was scary how stiff and cold it had gotten already. If Hank had doubted that Connor was well and truly dead before, there surely wasn’t any more room for that now. Hank was glad he had covered the young man with a blanket because at least he didn’t have to look into his empty, dead eyes now. He had avoided looking at them when he had first gathered Connor in his arms after shooting him. Hank had seen his fair share of corpses staring back at him with that accusing look in their eyes. He didn’t need that from Connor too.

Carefully, Hank lowered Connor into the hole. It was probably still too shallow to prevent the body from being found by a farmer or whatever hungry animals lurked in the nearby forests. But it was the best Hank could do with the limited time and supplies he had at hand right now and he was sure Connor would have appreciated the effort either way.

“I wish I could say something nice about you right now”, Hank muttered, as he began shoveling dirt onto Connor’s corpse, “But I didn’t fucking know you. And even if I did I’m not sure if I would’ve liked you. So sorry, no long, beautiful speeches at your grave.”

As expected, Connor didn’t answer. But around them, a soft breeze sprang up, brushing through the nearby trees and then past Hank, feeling almost like a caress. 

“Yeah, I knew you’d understand”, Hank muttered nonsensically to himself as he shoved more and more soil, covering up the hole again. He couldn’t be sure that the breeze had been Connor bidding him farewell from somewhere beyond his grasp but Hank had experienced far weirder things in his past lives and the thought was comforting so he clung to it. 

Finally, after almost another hour had passed, Hank was done. Connor was buried and the place, where he rested, could hardly be told apart from the surrounding area. Hank stretched and sighed, threw the spade back into the jeep and got into the driver’s seat. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. This day had gone off the rails so fast, Hank had no idea how to cope. But that had been his life for many months now and he doubted that today would make much of a difference anymore.

“I wish I could have met you sooner”, he whispered into the silence surrounding him, a single tear sliding down his cheek as he remembered the hurt expression in Connor’s eyes just before he shot him. There had been an understanding that there was no way around it and yet neither man had been happy about it. Surely, Connor would have liked for them to meet in different circumstances too. But it wasn’t too be.

With a sigh and a last glance at the spot where Connor was buried, Hank started the jeep. He turned and drove back to Berlin, hoping this war would finally end and that he would be granted another chance with Connor.


	23. Always different, always the same - part 1

Hank wakes up hungover and miserable like most days in the past year. A look at the clock on his bedside table tells him he’s slept through his alarm yet again and the only reason he is even awake now is the whining Saint Bernard lapping at his arm from beside the bed and looking at him with sad, dark eyes.

“Alright, alright, I’ll feed you”, Hank mutters, his voice rough as he throws back the covers and follows Sumo into the kitchen. He pours a generous amount of kibble into the dog’s bowl to get him out of his hair for a while and also because Hank suspects he forgot to feed him when he came home drunk last night.

Next, Hank progresses to the bathroom, where he avoids looking in the mirror, as always, and takes a quick, cold shower, hoping it will wake him up somewhat. He brushes his teeth and downs more painkillers than is probably advisable to stop the pounding in his head. It only works somewhat. With a sigh. Hank opens the back door and lets Sumo out into the garden to do his business. 

As he watches the large dog lumber around the garden, looking for a good spot to pee in, Hank checks his watch and realizes he’s already an hour late for work. A few years back, something like this would never have happened. Hank had a wife and a son back then to wake him up on time and to look forward to returning to later in the day. Nowadays, the flat is empty when Hank comes home, except for Sumo. And while the trusty Saint Bernard tries his best to take care of Hank, he isn’t as good at it as Catherine and Cole were. 

Hank doesn’t like thinking back to them. It wasn’t the first time he had started a family in the many lives he had had on this earth. Hank and Connor didn’t meet in every cycle and sometimes Hank would fall in love with someone else and have a family of his own. This time wasn’t even the first time he had lost a wife or a child. Hell, he had lived through countless centuries in which medicine hadn’t been as advanced as it was nowadays and women, as well as infants, were much more likely to die in childbirth or shortly after than was the case now. Still, it hurt every time and Hank had never come out of it alright. He isn’t doing alright now, either.

Cole died three years ago. Catherine left two and a half years ago. They had tried to make things work even after Cole died but it wasn’t to be and on days like today Hank is glad his ex-wife doesn’t have to see him like this. He looks nothing like the man he was just a few short years ago. Alcohol abuse and grief have made him age much more rapidly than he would have ever thought possible and where he was once proud of his looks and physique, Hank can’t look into a mirror these days without feeling sick to his stomach.

He sighs and decides not to ponder on things he can’t change any further. Sumo seems to be done doing his business and trots back into the house, where he climbs onto his enormous dog bed and immediately dozes off. Hank casts a glance at the mountain of empty take-out cartons and various bags of garbage he has yet to take out, then shrugs and leaves the house to go to work.

His work at the DPD is the same as any other day. Hank sits down at his desk, tries to ignore the burning glares from his boss and former best friend Jeffrey Fowler and hopes he doesn’t have to leave the precinct too much today. Despite being the most high-ranking officer in the precinct Hank often lets his work slide these days or delegates it to one of the detectives or officers around. Sometimes he hates himself for it. There was a reason he took up this career all those years ago but these days he just can’t seem to bring himself to give a damn.

Hank has been there for less than an hour when Gavin Reed comes over to tease him about how late he came in  _ again _ and how he reeks of alcohol despite the shower. Gavin also complains about the reports Hank writes and that no one in the precinct can work with because they’re incomprehensible as all hell. Hank tells him to fuck off and Gavin almost throws a fit. Before he can get to it, though, Fowler is calling him into his office and Hank turns back towards his terminal, idly scrolling through case files. 

There isn’t much to be done aside from paperwork that day and Hank works on that until he leaves the precinct at quarter to five. He gets into his car and drives to Jimmy’s bar for a dinner that consists of greasy fries that taste like tissue paper and however many whiskeys Hank can stomach before he starts getting too drunk to sit on a barstool any longer.

When he enters the bar, Hank’s gaze lands on the ‘no androids allowed’ sign on the door and he smiles grimly to himself. He’d always thought those plastic fuckers were creepy as hell and ever since one of them killed Cole in a botched-up surgery, Hank hates them with a vengeance. It doesn’t make his job any easier, given he is working on Android-related crimes these days but Hank had always known that the damn things would go rogue eventually and it fills him with no small amount of satisfaction to have others finally believe him, now that androids are becoming violent more and more often.

Hank isn’t sure for how long he has sat at the bar, drinking and trying to drown out thoughts and memories when someone suddenly appears by his side. 

“Lieutenant Anderson?”, a voice that sounds human but is far too void of emotion to ever be truly human asks, “My name is Connor. I’m the android sent by Cyberlife.”

Hank turns to look at the android and tell it to fuck off but instead, he does a double-take and his glass slides from his grip to shatter into pieces on the ground. The face Hank is looking at is a painfully familiar one. He’s seen it countless times in many of his lives but seeing it here and now, belonging to an android no less, is almost enough to make Hank pass out. 

At least he isn’t the only one, who’s shocked if the expression on Connor’s face is anything to go by. The android stares at him, unblinking, for several long seconds. The LED at his right temple is pulsing a hectic, fiery-red rhythm and something inside him whirs loudly. For a second, Hank is worried that Connor will self-destruct right then and there but then the brunet blinks his eyes and his gaze focusses again. He looks terrified now, which is weird considering androids aren’t supposed to have any emotions at all. 

“Hank”, he says, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes full of fear before he turns on the spot and runs from the bar. Before he knows it, Hank is after him, ignoring Jimmy yelling at him to pay his tab first. 

Hank races after the android-Connor but of course the damn thing is much faster than him and he loses him only a few blocks down the road. Out of breath and seriously annoyed, Hank continues his search for the android. He knows it’s damn near impossible to find anyone in Detroit, who doesn’t want to be found and Hank doesn’t even have any idea what to do or say once he finds Connor. All he knows is that he has to find him. And so he walks through the dark and empty streets of Detroit, looking for an android he has seen for all of thirty seconds but he knows he could recognize among millions.

He’s almost ready to give up when he sees a huddled figure on a bench nearby and just knows that this has to be Connor. Hank hurries over to find the android with his arms wrapped around his legs and his face buried in the space between his chest and knees.

“Connor?”, Hank asks softly once he’s caught his breath. The android doesn’t react. 

“Is this really you?”, he wants to know. He can see the brunet tense for a moment, then he nods. Hank hears a sniffle, then the android lifts his head. There are tears running down his cheeks and it breaks Hank’s heart. Until now, he hadn’t even known that androids were capable of crying. But Connor’s cheeks are clearly wet and Hank only barely resists the urge to wipe away the tears with his thumb. Instead, he sits down next to the android and waits for him to say something. 

“I’m sorry”, Connor says eventually, suppressing a sob, “I did some research on you and I know you hate androids but I can’t change who I am. I was supposed to help you with the deviant cases but I think I just deviated myself. That’s why I ran. I was terrified you wouldn’t love me in this body and suddenly I had feelings and now I don’t know what to do!”

It takes Hank several long moments to untangle the android’s words and understand the meaning behind them. But when he does, he feels like his heart breaks a second time within five minutes. 

“I could never hate you, Connor”, he tells the android, trying not to think of the last time they met, when Hank had shot Connor for being a Nazi and while he wasn’t sure he had hated him back then, he was sure he had at least not been able to love him. With Connor, despite his hatred for everything android, Hank, strangely enough, doesn’t feel like he could never love him. It might take some time to adjust but he is sure he will manage. To him, this is just another iteration of Connor. A beautiful soul in yet another body that Hank will have to grow accustomed to but will surely be able to love once he does. He met Connor so often in so many different bodies that, while being an android surely is odd, it doesn’t seem to put a damper on Hank’s feelings for the younger man.

“What are we going to do now?”, Connor asks, his voice trembling, “What if Cyberlife finds out that I deviated and comes to replace me?!” There’s panic in the android’s eyes as he looks at Hank and the lieutenant can’t help but take Connor’s hand in his. It’s warm and the skin is so soft it almost feels human. Holding Connor’s hand feels like coming home and it’s the first time in many months that Hank feels at peace.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you, you hear me?”, Hank states firmly, even though he has no idea what to do and how he would protect Connor if Cyberlife actually came to take him. But he wants to protect this fragile being that’s so afraid of his own new-found emotion and of being rejected by the man he loves. 

“Can’t you just make them think you’re not deviant until we find a way to solve that issue?”, Hank wants to know. Connor’s LED blinks yellow at his temple, then he nods.

“I think they won’t suspect much if I continue sending in reports at scheduled times”, he replies, then sighs, “Thank you, Hank. I don’t know how I didn’t think of this myself.”

Hank laughs at that.

“Fear makes us all do dumb things”, he says softly and pats Connor on the back.

They lapse into silence after that, each of them occupied with their own thoughts. Hank wonders how things will evolve between them this time around and what cruel twists destiny has up its sleeve now. Connor looks deeply concentrated next to him until he suddenly snaps out of it and jumps to his feet.

“How could I forget?!”, he exclaims, looking at Hank with wide eyes, “We have an investigation. That’s why I was looking for you in the first place!” Hank laughs yet again.

“I thought you machines were incapable of forgetting things”, he comments as Connor begins dragging him down the sidewalk.

“Fear makes us do dumb things”, Connor retorts, a shy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Hank can’t help but smile back as he lets himself be guided to the crime scene. He has no idea how events will unfold but he knows he wants to support Connor, whatever the future might bring. Hank figures, that is enough to unpack for now…


	24. Always different, always the same - part 2

Throughout the next few days, life changes dramatically for Hank. His soulmate is back in the body of an android this time and if that weren’t enough to justify at least two years’ worth of therapy, they are also set to work on a case to find out what causes androids to deviate and stop it. The fact that Connor deviated the moment he saw Hank and is now desperately trying not to let Cyberlife figure that out is only a tiny ‘blip’ on Hank’s radar of weird things that have happened these past days. 

Between chasing rogue androids through the streets of Detroit and assuring Connor again and again that he isn’t going to be found out, Hank hardly has any time to think about how quickly he grew attached to Connor. One moment he hated androids and would have gladly seen them all burn and the next Connor appears in his life and just tears down all the walls Hank had built around himself ever since his son died. It’s as nerve-wracking as it is exhilarating.

Hank had thought his life was over, that he was just going to exist for maybe one more year or two before he finally gathered the courage to end it all. But now Connor was in his life, forcing Hank to get to work at reasonable hours and showering Sumo in so much affection the old dog was slowly reverting back to oversized puppy. And Hank doesn’t mind any of that.

It feels like he’s been in a dark room these past years with no way out and now Connor has just opened the door and light is streaming in. Sure, Hank’s problems don’t solve themselves overnight and they still have to deal with the fact that more and more androids are deviating every day but for the first time in what feels like an eternity, Hank feels like the world might not be so dark and grim after all.

Right now is one of the rare occasions these days that Hank is by himself and has the time to think about things. Just a few hours earlier he was temporarily suspended for beating up an FBI agent to help Connor get into the evidence room undetected and now he’s sitting in his dark living room, contemplating life, and he has no idea where Connor is. But Hank hopes he found what he was looking for amongst the evidence they collected.

In quiet moments like these, it’s almost terrifying to Hank to think about how quickly and easily he has let Connor become part of his life, gotten comfortable around him and even enjoying his company. He’d never felt about an android like that but then again, neither had he ever about most humans. Hank would think it strange that all his hatred and anger have just melted like butter on a hot day because Connor looked at him once with sad, brown eyes.

But he had learned long ago that this seemed to be the effect the young man had on him, whether he was the son of a Roman senator or a young noble at the court of the sun king – or even an android, it seemed.

Sometimes it seemed cruel that fate would create two individuals, who were so utterly devoted to one another that it was painful to be separated and almost impossible for them not to fall in love each and every time they met. But after thousands of years, after all the pain and heartbreak, Hank wouldn’t want it to be any other way. Sure, there had been bad times, probably more than good ones if he thought about it. But the good always outweighed the bad in his memories and Hank would always fall for Connor, it seemed.

Before Hank can get even deeper into his thoughts and musings on what he and Connor had been through and what that meant for them now and in the future, the doorbell rings. 

“Lieutenant, it’s me!”, a familiar voice calls out and Hank can’t stop the smile that spreads on his face at hearing it. This version of Connor is so different from all the others, awkward and so unsure of what he is doing in social contexts that sometimes it makes Hank want to scream but it is so endearing nevertheless that Hank can practically feel himself falling for the android in real-time. It is bizarre and brings up a myriad of thoughts and questions but Hank will deal with them after their case is solved.

When he opens the door, Connor steps into the house without preamble. He looks distraught but determined, his LED pulsing an erratic yellow pulse at his temple. 

“I know where Jericho is”, he tells Hank with wide eyes and excitement in his voice, “I know where it is and how to find it. I will go there and join them.” 

Hank feels like they had just skipped a huge chunk of reasoning in their conversation and jumped right to the conclusion without discussing how they got there. And sure, Hank’s opinion on androids had changed greatly since he met Connor. He learned that they weren’t that different from humans and he figured that if this android is really Connor reincarnated, it must mean he had a soul, right? And who is to say that didn’t apply to the other androids as well? Even if Hank is still getting used to his new findings, he is already firmly convinced that a being with a soul shouldn’t have to be a slave to some other creature.

So while he is technically on board with the androids throwing off their shackles – or at least he thinks he is – the thought of just sending Connor off to fight alongside them sits uneasily in Hank’s stomach.

“You want to join the deviant androids? What for?”, Hank wonders. It is pretty clear that something big is going to happen soon and he is glad to see it happen but if he can avoid it, he won’t have Connor in the thick of it. 

“I understand Markus’ message now. We need to free our kind”, Connor answers with the same fire in his voice he had when he went to fight against the French king in the 1780s, “I am sure at Jericho they will tell me more about what I can do to help. I feel like something big is going to happen soon and I want to be part of it. I was created to fight deviants but now I am one of them and I feel it’s my duty to help those, who aren’t free yet.”

“But you do remember what happened the last time you joined a revolution, yeah?”, Hank comments, only half-joking. Connor’s gaze softens immediately and he awkwardly places one hand on Hank’s shoulder.

“Back then I was only a boy with a head full of dreams, who didn’t know the next thing about fighting for something”, the android says softly, “This time I am a million dollars’ worth of highly trained machinery that can take out any enemy. I’m sure I will be fine.” 

Connor ends his little speech with a wink and a strange half-smile he started doing soon after he and Hank met. When Hank asked about it, Connor explained that he couldn’t fully control his facial features at all times yet and that it would take some time to do so. But if Hank is concerned, Connor can smile like this for the rest of his life. Sure, it looks strange but it is also sweet and genuine, reminding Hank time and again of how human the android is despite what he is made of. 

That smile and the determination, the buzzing excitement that radiates off of Connor is what finally convinces Hank not to worry about him too much. Who is he to stop a military-grade android anyway? It doesn’t make preparing Connor, talking through his plans and letting him borrow some of Hank’s old clothes to fit in better with the other deviants any easier. But Hank learned long ago that fate will do what it wants with them anyway and if it wants Connor to fight for the androids’ freedom in this cycle, that’s what Connor will do. 

“I know I probably sound like an overbearing mother hen but take care of yourself, okay?”, Hank says once everything else is said and done and Connor is ready to leave for Jericho, “I don’t want to have to wait another hundred years to see you again.” 

“I’ll be fine”, Connor promises, “I will be back before you know it and then we can finally spend a happy lifetime together again.” 

This being said, Connor’s LED spins red rapidly once before the android turns on his heels and leaves the house. Hank is left behind, baffled. If he understood Connor correctly and hadn’t imagined the light blue blush appearing on his cheeks just before he turned around, the android is looking forward to spending his life with Hank just as much as the human does. It makes a small smile graze Hank’s features for a moment before he settles back down in front of the tv with Sumo and hopes that he will see Connor again soon.

To Hank’s great surprise, their reunion comes the next day. The previous night has been pure horror for Hank. All over Detroit androids rose up to demand their freedom and humans tried to fight them back. There was only the occasional news report or memo from the DPD all throughout it, everyone too busy trying to figure out what was even going on, and Hank sat in his house waiting to hear from Connor. Knowing the android was out there somewhere and possibly in grave danger kept Hank up all night. More than once he was seconds away from getting into his car and looking for Connor. But every time he told himself that having to look after Hank would only distract Connor and probably end up getting him harmed more easily than if he was on his own and didn’t have to worry about keeping a human safe.

By the time morning comes around Hank is thoroughly exhausted, yet restless at the same time. When the house around him starts feeling more and more constricting, Hank knows he has to go out. So he puts on his jacket and just takes off to wherever his feet carry him.

Strangely enough, Hank ends up in front of the Chicken Feed, the food truck he is a regular at and has taken Connor to after work on the night they first met. The truck is abandoned as is most of Detroit and Hank has no idea what even made him go here. But then he sees Connor rounding the corner and walking towards him and everything suddenly makes sense. 

The android hurries to join him in front of the truck and before Hank has made the conscious decision to do so, he has pulled Connor into a tight hug. After being taken aback for a moment, Connor returns it, wrapping his arms tightly around Hank in turn.

“I’m so glad you’re here”, Hank whispers into Connor’s hair, “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I lost you.”

“I’m here, Hank, and I’m not leaving”, Connor replies intuitively finding just the right words to say, “I’m here and we won and we can finally be together.” 

They hold onto each other for a moment longer. Then, Hank takes a step back to look at the android. He looks calm and content and so painfully human that Hank wonders how he could have ever thought that Connor was anything but that. And most importantly: Connor wants to be with Hank just as much as Hank wants to be with Connor. Finally,  _ finally _ , after all this time fate has granted them a happy ending again and it makes Hank so unbelievably happy that he gives in to the urge to kiss Connor when it arises.

The android freezes for a second but then returns the kiss eagerly, pressing his lips and really his entire body to Hank tightly as if he is trying to merge their bodies together. Hank’s arms wrap even tighter around Connor as the lieutenant vows to himself never to let go of the android again.

And at this moment, Hank feels so at peace with himself, with the world, with the universe that he is sure that this is truly his last cycle on this earth. In all of his previous lives, whether he spent them with Connor or without him, whether they ended happily or badly, he never felt so calm and at peace. Maybe this is a sign from the universe that after this life, Hank and Connor can finally move on to the afterlife. Hank has no idea how to figure that out but he figures that he is going to find out sooner or later either way.

The only thing that matters now is that Connor is finally in his arms again for once, alive and warm and with Hank and that they have all the time in the world ahead of them to build a life for themselves. Every past life, every pain and every bit of happiness pales in comparison to the fact that Hank gets to keep Connor this time around and that they will end their long lives the way they had started them: Hopelessly in love with each other and well and truly happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's done! The last 24 days were a blast and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did! Your comments, kudos and support really made this all worth it! Thank all of you so much!

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter! Comments and kudos are much appreciated!  
> Come say hi on twitter @NoiseStrangest !


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